


Born Among A Hundred

by Sept_Meules



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Chilton is like that doctor who lives in an island while making monsters, Chimeras, Discrimination, F/M, Gen, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Beta Read, On Hiatus, Paparazzi, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Pranks, Slow Build, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:08:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sept_Meules/pseuds/Sept_Meules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is known from the FBI's hero squad as Psyche. From catching villains, to chimeras, to watching his teammates make a fool out of themselves, he learns that being a "hero" is bearable, with help, of course, from hero physiologist and therapist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who may be more to Will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Psyche & Eros

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: quote by Plato "...a hero is born among a hundred, ..."  
> I like the Avengers, love the Young Avengers, and hope to have Mystique's powers. So yeah, I like superheroes. Who can blame me?

/"You cannot be a hero without being a coward. Remember that, 'hero'." The supervillain spat the word with much venom./

Beverly Katz jolts awake. The remains of a nightmare just like a watercolour painting and water was thrown over it. She knows a dream happened but she doesn't quite remembers what it exactly was. But the thing she's clear on is that it scared her. Only when she placed a hand on her chest did she notice that her heart is beating wildly. 

Must be a really bad dream.

And her shirt is drenched, sticking on her like a second skin. Just like how they would find one of their teammates when he screams like bloody murder in the terror of the night. 

She throws the blanket from herself and swings her legs to the side, the need of relieving her dry throat hammering her brain.

Instantly, she fell down on the floor like a puppet whose strings were cut as soon as she attempted to stand up, feet like jello. 

 

Morning to one Will Graham is like method clockwork. He wakes up from a nightmare in an ungodly hour of the night, pace around the room doing god-knows-what, and try resume sleeping. Though when he isn't successful, he goes all around the house or the grounds and just walk. Eventually, five o'clock comes around and he starts the coffeemaker. If and only if no one had come down the kitchen by ten minutes, he starts making breakfast. 

And that's what happened in that faithful Tuesday morning. 

When he says his mornings are method clockwork, it's a rare occurance when Will doesn't wake up from a nightmare and continue sleeping like a log. But it felt like a thousand years ago when that happened, Will woke up in the dead of the night from an invisible dream he promise himself is not there. He goes down and made a pile of pancake and bacon in the stove and left it there.

He was on his second pancake when he heard footsteps from the staircase and then two white arms enveloped him in a hug. 

"I don't know how you do it, Will. How you live with it." Bev whispers to his ear. 

He doesn't answer. 

She comes around the kitchen island and serves herself on some breakfast. Sitting across Will, she looks into his eyes-- which were dull at the moment-- then she nods at him.

Will puts his fork down and pushes his plate to a side. He presses his index and middle fingers on both sides of her temples and closes his eyes, focusing. When the pink and gold aura connects with his finger tips, Bev gasps in shock and grips the edge of the table. It's a painful and delicate process, lending another of your powers. Will should know, he feels like the top part of his throat is being ripped off when his aura leaves him.  
When all the aura had come back to him, Bev's eyes were shining with unshed tears. 

Will, on the other hand, has eyes that looked like he'd gone through Space and Time; eyes melancholic, lonely, and old. 

And Bev experienced not even one-fourth of his painful yet magnificent power that throws villains behind bars. The visions and dreams that Will sees, his empathic abilities, the responsibility of such great power.

"How was your little exchange gift session?" Brian asks as he and Jimmy came in the kitchen and headed to the stove. 

Jimmy took the coffee pot and poured himself a cup and took both to the kitchen island to join the two. 

"Painful." Will states drily, eyes still locked to Bev's. 

Jimmy hums as he peers into their mugs, "Coffee?"

 

The beat of the violin, accompanied with a grand piano, mirrored with the tapping of Doctor Hannibal Lecter's fingers. The rhythm is catchy, it etches its tune to one's heart. And then again it might be because it was Habanera from Bizet's Carmen, such a tragedy of a story. And sung by Mischa Lecter herself. Lithuania's very own opera aria rising star. 

"L'amour, L'amour!" She sang. 

And then Hannibal stands up as the last note played, applauding at his sister's performance. 

"Bravo!" He exclaims. 

She bows like there were a multitude there to watch her, and gestures to her accompanists. And they do the same. 

"When will be your next concert?" Hannibal asks as Mischa walked over to him. 

"Next week." She answers, her eyes fluttering so gracefully. "You'll be able to come, yes?"

He smiles, "I will clear everything in my schedule to watch your performance."

She gives him a peck on the cheek, standing on her toes to reach up to him. 

The Lecter siblings have that gene trait of being taller than normal people. Hannibal is just simply tall, but Mischa is sometimes described to be a nephilim. Not just because of her height, but her angelic presence. 

"So shall we go home, brother mine?" She asks as she grabbed her bag from the chair beside Hannibal, slinging it on her elbow and locking arms with him. 

"Yes, I have a new recipe I have acquired, you simply must try." He tells her as they both left the auditorium. 

 

"I spy, with my little eye, something," Brian narrows his eyes, "something blue."

"Will's eyes." Bev answers. 

"Okay. I spy with my little eye, something curly." He says. 

"Will's hair." Bev answers once again. 

When Brian opened his mouth to question her how she knows the answers instantly, since her abilities are to have wingless flight and to see through anything, and reading anybody's mind isn't among those things, Jimmy responded, "Will's all you can see, Bri."

Brian nods, agreeing. 

They were strapped into their seats in a helijet to jump to their destination. A small unnamed island in the Bermuda Triangle where notorious Dr. Frederick Chilton does his experiments of chimeras and other beastlike beings. And somehow, a few of them supposedly "escape" from Chilton's island and swim over to mainland USA or South America and terrorize people. And it's FBI's special unit, Jack Crawford's hero squad's job to deal with the creatures and tell Chilton off on his abominations. There are other villanous characters out there but Chilton has the most prolific data on him. 40 deaths by chimeras. 

The latch on the end of the helijet opens and the seatbelt sign blinks off. And then a voice over the intercom says "Heroes, you're to jump here."

Jimmy unbuckles himself from his seat and stretches his limbs. He momentarily blends himself in the dull black and gray interior of the helijet before he turns to Bev. "I'm Lois Lane, you're my Superman." He chides with a nonchalant face. 

Bev gives a wierd face. 

Brian looks at Will, who stood up from his seat. "Your carriage awaits." 

Brian Zeller has the ability to shapeshift into any animate, mobile being. And he's widely reknowned for having twin tattoed wings in his back that turned into feathers and flesh when he needs it to. 

 

Chilton tapped his finger along to the beat of the song played in the gramophone. Eyes clised as he let himself lost in the music. But of course, everything he does that he likes has to be ended abruptly. 

There were his men grunting and shouting at each other in the hallway and a small seige of openfire destroyed his meditative atmosphere. 

He sighed dutifully when the door was slammed open and two bodies emerged amongst the ruckous. "Ah, Ms. Katz and Mr. Price," he took the box on his side table and gestured to it, "Could I offer you some lemon drops?"

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." Mr. Price says as he quickly jogged to get two, and jogged back beside Ms. Katz. He offered it to her, but was dismissed with a pointed face. Then to the air to his other side. 

Mr. Zeller appeared and took one, popping it to his mouth. 

"What the hell, Chilton?" Ms. Katz shouted, "Your monsters are killing people in Florida!"

Chilton ate a lemon drop, "They're like humans. The want to survive." He sardonically chides. 

"They should know their place in the world." Bev tells him, stomping over to Chilton, taking him up by the collar of his crisp polo shirt. "Under the soles of our shoes."

He gasped inaudible-- but he was sure the hero could hear it-- as he was a foot above the floor, his breathing troubled, and is already looking down at sweet Ms. Katz. Nevertheless, he still manages to smirk, "And where would our dear Psyche be?"

Jimmy and Brian share a look, a simialar question running through their heads. 

'Where's Will?'

 

Will Graham stepped over an unconcsious suited security man of Chilton's. He was to rendevouz with the others, only if he wasn't lost in these long and winding halls. It didn't help with his brain either. He feels like he's walking forward, though the more he moves forward the farther he's walking backward. And it's such a disorienting hallucination. 

Slowly, he closes his eyes and takes a breath. Once he opened them again, he was in front a peach coloured wall. Face to face. Just a few centimeters from his nose, he can call it a bad parody of the Wailing Wall. 

About to turn on his knees, he felt a pressure on his back and then he was suddenly pressed on the wall. Someone was behind him. 

He closes his eyes. "Who are you?" He breathed. 

Whoever is behind him, Will can deduct is tall. Graceful by the way the stranger isn't rough to Will. 

All Will can visibly notice from the stranger is the inky black antlers that towered over Will's head like they were on his own. 

"Who are you?" He questions, this time clearer and louder. 

Silence responds to him, though the pressure is still present. 

And then it wasn't. 

Will turns around to see who it was, or else /what/ it was. But as if he just awoke from sleepwalking, no one was there. Not a soul to be found. Not even a hint of inky black antlers on the side of his eyes. 

 

"What the hell, Will?!" Bev shouted as she saw him approaching their rendevouz point. "Where'd you disappear to?"

Will walks up to the platform and takes his place between her and Brian. "I tried to find the holding cells and see if the chimeras were using a hole in the wall to escape."

Brian was reading from his tablet, "Jack would have other FBI units rounding the perimeter, scouting around and see if there's anything fishy." He looks up, "Ride's here."

 

The trip back to their house was relatively silent. With Brian and Jimmy bickering on what they should do for dinner, and Bev somewhere else, probably reporting to Jack. So it was relatively quiet. 

"Will! Order pizza!" Brian shouted as he and Jimmy wrestled each other in the corridoor. Will was already in the kitchen taking out a medicine vial for his abnormal recurring headaches. 

He threw his head back and gulped the thick liquid. 

"Will!" Jimmy cried, "Sub! Sub!"

 

Chilton watched the creature in the cage with much loathe. He did so much experimenting, and killing all those failures. But when he finally had succeeded, the stupid animal tried running away. He thank all dieties out there for having his visitor over (even though said visitor is someone he very much dislike-- keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, they say) and catching it before it could jump through the wet plaster of a hole Chilton had "accidentaly" fired a bazooka in. 

"I want to buy it from you." His visitor says from where Chilton had previously sat in when those annoying heroes barged in. 

His face twisted into a silent snarl. "And if I refuse your /kind/ offer?" He spat, still looking at the creature. 

"We've gone through this, Frederick." Chilton heard the rustle of papers being looked at from an envelope. "These documents, journals, and essays; they are all breeching all humane moralities."

Chilton's hold on the plastic tarpauline tightened. 'His name was Jason Baxter.'

"Even your internet activities are evident of your cyber-stalking."

He twisted on his place in anger. He opens his mouth to defend whatever little thing he can. Though was stopped when a hand was raised to dismiss him. 

"You may like your experiment. And I have seen the art in it, so as a good patron, I would like to buy it."

"This isn't a painting." He mutters. 

"It's live art. So, do we have a deal, Frederick?"

 

Will looks like he's a scrawny piece of meat under wire glasses and clothes a size bigger than him, but he's absolutely not. All three of his teammates know that. How? When they catch him training by himself. 

Will was on the virtual holographic training generator when Jack finds him. He had a two wooden stick as weapons and was both doing offensive and defensive attacks against his virtual enemies. He would've won 'one against three' if it were not for Jack Crawford disrupting his training with a bark. 

"Will!"

The hero flinched and stumbled on his feet as he dodged the attacks afflicted by his enemies, hitting him on his ribs, his leg, and his chest. It's exactly like getting stoned alive, (or at least what he thinks it feels like) this time by virtual wooden sticks. 

On the floor, he quickly pulled the vest off of him, stopping the pain, along with throwing the pressure gloves. He pushes the virtual goggles to his forehead and looks up to the platform where Jack stood. 

"Will, come meet Dr. Lecter." He commanded. 

Will, still exhausted, heaved and pulled himself up the matted floor. And padded towards the exit of the training room. 

 

Jack's cell phone rang from beside Dr. Lecter. He excused himself to answer it. "Excuse me, Doctor. I have to take this."

Dr. Lecter nodded. Jack took this as permission to leave the doctor. 

Dr. Lecter watched Will leave the training room and used the opportunity to introduce himself to the hero. He walked while Will jogged to meet him. "I am Dr. Hannibal Lecter." He offered his hand. 

Will doesn't look at his eyes, instead down on the doctor's hand, "I would, but you'd think me rude for having sweaty palms."

Hannibal smiles. 

Will points to the door beside them, "If it would be okay with you, I'll take a shower first. Or if you--" He drawls when he sees the smile creeping up the doctor's mouth. 

"I wouldn't mind if you wouldn't mind us talking while you take your shower."

 

And they did just that. 

With Dr. Lecter sitting on the bench, his suit jacket resting on the space beside him, he faced the closed stall where Will took his shower. 

"You may call me Hannibal, if you would prefer." He offers. 

"I would like to know why they send you here for." Will tells him amidst the shower's hiss. 

"I'm a hero physiologist."

"And that helps me how exactly?"

"I am also a therapist."

The shower stops, "So you're acting as my shrink? Did Jack and his superiors hire you?"

Hannibal didn't know what to answer him. He needed to know what Will's reaction is, to prevent the hero from avoiding Hannibal. "No, Agent Crawford had your best interests in mind. No one else in the bureau knows of me."

"Yet." Will tells the doctor as he stepped out of the shower, waist clad in towel. "No one else in the bureau knows of you /yet/." 

Hannibal smiles, "Now you make it sound like an affair, Will."

Will sighs as if he had all the problems in the world. He probably does, Hannibal could deduce. "What, is this by appointment, Dr. Lecter? Does this go on until I accidentaly get killed?"

Hannibal stands up and hands Will his bag of clean clothes. "We can arrange you to have a flexible appointment seeing as your schedule is unpredictable as a hero."

Will snorts, "I can't say that I'm a hero."

The doctor nods, following him to a changing stall, staying to sit on the bench. "Believe me, Will. I know a hero when I see one."

Will gives him a grin before he disappeared into the changing room. "Gosh, you sure know how to make a girl blush."

 

Bev and Brian were waiting in the kitchen island when Will came back up from the training grounds. 

"Fancy-suited foreign man, who?" Bev demanded. 

Will drops his change bag on the counter, "My new therapist."

Brian's eyes went wide, "Since when'd you get a therapist?"

"Since Jack gave me one."

"I don't trust him." Bev says, folding her arms on her chest. Brian follows her. 

Will shrugs, "I don't either."

"I was talking about your therapist." 

"I am too."

"Well, I'm not." Brian tells them. "I think Jack has some other plans for us."

Bev snorts, "And what would that be? Alien abduction?"

"No, not exactly. I think he took us in for experimenting. That while we run around the world, saving it. Did you even know he used to be in the BAU department of the FBI?"

"If he was once in the BAU, then it's a great thing that he saw what Will needed." Jimmy pipes in, appearing behind Will. 

"How long had you been there?" Bev questions him. 

"I've been stalking Will this morning." Jimmy tells her like it wasn't the most creepy thing in the world. "I saw fancy-suited foreign man for myself."

Will turns to the other two, "How about you two? How'd you know about fancy suited--" he frowns, "his nane is Hannibal."

"Like the general with the elephants?" Brian asks. 

"I saw him while I was in the surveillance room. Well, before the live feed got cut off." Bev tells them. 

Brian nods, "I came down and saw Bev angry about it. Jack has this tendency of keeping things discreet. And I'm not liking it one bit."

Will gives a half smile, "You sure are suspicious of Jack."

Brian shrugs, "There's nothing wrong with it."

Jimmy snorts, "There is, if you become paranoid."

The two starts bickering, Will and Bev tuned them out and appreciated their coffees. 

 

Freddie Lounds, investigative journalism extraordinaire. Infamous journalist who expertise on hero exposés. And the royal pain on Jack Crawford's ass. 

Agent Jack Crawford washed a hand over his face as he stared at the newspaper on his desk. 

His superiors had the indecency to greet him in that particular morning with a article cut-out by one Freddie Lounds. Jack bets that they haven't heard of 'happy atmosphere, happy workers'. They clearly haven't because Jack isn't happy. 

And he couldn't help it that everytime he needs to meet with the heroes his superiors batter him with scoldings for children, the heroes suffer on his anger. Specially Will. Jack doesn't mean to, that's why he had asked for Beverly to represent them. At least she knows him even before the hero-thing. She even saw him once when he and his wife were grocery shopping. 

"What do they want me to do with this?" He question his secretary over the com. 

"To talk with the heroes, sir."

He exhaled, "Alright, schedule a meeting for later. Call Dr. Lecter if he's free."

"Yes, sir."

 

A copy of the newspaper where the article is slapped the conference table. And Jack folded his arms on his chest, standing at the head of the table. "How the hell did Brian make it to the front page of the newspaper?" He narrows his eyes, "Where the hell is he?"

Around the conference table were Bev, Will and Jimmy. And clearly the shape-shifter wasn't present. 

Jack turns to Will, "Would you please?"

Will nods once and closes his eyes, with his mind's eye he searched their whole five storey house for the shapeshifter. His mind's eye rushing, blurring familiar images of endless hallways and staircases. And he comes to a stop when Will sees Brian hunched over a soldering iron and a motherboard of an unfprtunate CPU. Then he uses his telekinisis and asks the shape-shifter to come up to the conference room. 

Brian snorts, leaning back as the soldering iron smokes white. "You can count me out." He says out loud. And if there were some other person with Brian they would've thought him mad. 

Will tells him that his presence is very much needed, as he was the subject of the State newspaper. 

"Was I naked and had 'Hello Baltimore' written on my chest?" He questioned adamantly. 

Will disagrees. 

"Then I can take Bev's scolding."

Will looks up to Jack, "He won't come up."

Jack turns to Jimmy, "You make him piss his pants." 

Bev snorts. 

"All right, meeting adjourned. Will, come with me please."

Bev and Jimmy huddle together as they plan on what to do to prank Brian, obliging to Jack's command gleefully. 

Will stands up from the swivle chair and follows Jack out of the conference room, glancing back and saw Bev and Jimmy staring after him. Piteous. 

Jack leads Will through the spacious hallway of doors leading to smaller meeting rooms. And stops at #08. He faces the empath. "You know who's in there."

"Santa Claus?" He humourlessly chides. 

Jack ignores him and opens the door, pushing him in. 

When Dr. Hannibal Lecter sees him stumbling in, Will said, "Well, you aren't Santa Claus."

Hannibal gestures for him to sit across, "No, but I believe you can trick your own eyes and make me look like whoever you please."

Will sits, "So you wouldn't mind if I were to dress you as Santa Claus?"

Hannibal doesn't agree but tells him, "As long as it does not hinder you to talk to me normally."

Will blinks and closes his eyes for good measure, "I'll think of you as the Easter  Bunny." He jokes, mostly to himself. 


	2. Aphrodite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Five." Jimmy tells them. "First three months were weekly appointments, then Dr. Lecter upgraded to bi-weekly appointments by the fourth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd.  
> Sorry Tunder28, not at the moment. 
> 
> I had the second chapter written, and then my Notes got deleted along with it. And I went into gloat mode. 
> 
> Errors are my own. Don't even bother to correct it, please, I can't even scrape enough creativity into this. 
> 
> I seriously want to know what you'd add and I may write it in the story. Two minds are better than one.

 

"Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you," Mischa sang, blue eyes half-lidded to give that dream-like effect that always captivated her audience. 

Her gaze swept over to her brother and his companion and smiled, closing her eyes in quiet happiness, "Birds singin' in the sycamore tree." 

Bedelia Du Maurier leans forward to Hannibal, "She has excelled more than I thought."

Hannibal agrees whole heartedly. 

Bedelia was Mischa's predecessor. To teach Hannibal's younger sister the art to the opera. And that was when Hannibal and Mischa attended in one in their early years here in Baltimore. Hannibal did what was polite in social events as such, talk to people and bear with what they offer up. Mischa was talking to a stout man who had engaged her in easy conversation, and was courteously asked if she ever thought of pursuing a career to be an opera singer. She agreed, her excuse for not being one as of that time was that she was studying to be an interior designer. And apparently, that stout man is a very close friend of Bedelia Du Maurier. He introduced the both of them. And Mischa dropped her interior designing course and became Bedelia's little project. After a year, Mischa was singing in small private affairs. Another passed, and she was signed under a label, waiting for her big break. 

Before the whole incident happened. 

A week before Bedelia's own performance. With reserved seats of 150 renowned people and socialites. It may be of small quantity but it was to please them, and also for Bedelia's own exposure no matter how long she had been in the industry. 

She had been attacked in her own home on a Tuesday night, coming back from a friend's place. A complete freak accident. Someone entered her home and slitted her throat. The paramedics caught her on time and rushed her to the ER before she could lose a lot of blood. 

The police came in her room during her recovery to question her. She told them that the person who came in was more like a some/thing/. With horns as sharp as a knife on its head. She showed her left palm and told them that she held those horns in defense before her throat was cut. 

"Dream a little dream of me." 

Bedelia Du Maurier is now just a name in the opera world. Sometimes a presence in a seat, reminiscencing of her past love. Now just a humble music tutor. 

 

"Shall we go for lunch?" Bedelia suggested. 

Mischa hummed, tugging her red coat closer to her body. 

Hannibal gestured to his car. "Let us go to my house."

Mischa took the seat beside the driver's, beside Hannibal. With her seatbelt secure, she turned to her mentor with an excited smile, "I'll be moving in my own place this week."

Bedelia smiles gently, "That's great." 

"I would like you to visit me whenever you are available."

"Maybe," she says, "you would like it if I were to help you unpack?"

Mischa grinned, "Yes, of course. I would appreciate that."

Hannibal eased out of his parking slot. 

"How about your brother?" Bedelia asks. "Would he not help you?"

Mischa softly scoffs, leaning in her seat. "He has a date with a hero."

"Oh, is that so?" Bedelia chides. 

Hannibal only shows an amused smirk. 

"Yes, from FBI's finest."

"Beverly Katz?" Bedelia guessed. 

"No, Will Graham." 

Hannibal regretted looking up to the front mirror to see Bedelia's reaction. 

In the time of Mischa's honing of her voice, Bedelia proved to be of a great friend to Hannibal. And some how Bedelia had seen Hannibal's patterns and understood his person suit. 

He was exasperated. "It's not what you're thinking."

"Then what should I be thinking?"

"He's my patient."

"Has he graced your table yet, Hannibal?"

"No--"

Mischa huffs a small laugh. "That was a rhetorical question, brother."

Hannibal sighed inaudibly. How could he fail to notice Bedelia's tone? He turned on the traffic light, still answering even though both women had diverted in their conversation. "Not yet."

 

"Come on guys, no wet blankets." Brian told them, folding his sleeves up. 

Bev snorted folding her arms over her chest, "I'm not taking part." 

Brian turns to Jimmy and Will expectantly, "You two ain't no exceptions."

Both heroes walked closer to him. 

Jimmy brought out his fist on his palm, "On three."

Bev rolled her eyes as they chose who would go up out of the three to save the cat with something idiotic as a game of Rock, Paper, Scizzors. 

"Will, you lose!" Brian exclaimed joyously while the former gave him a gloating look, nevertheless oblige. Brian is a genius cheater on Rock, Paper, Scizzors. Just because he's a shapeshifter. 

"Climb the tree. Climb the tree. Climb the tree." Jimmy chanted as Will walked to the tree in question. The cat perching on it's high branch had become passive and stared down at them anticipating if Will had balls enough to climb. 

The empath huffed as he hugged the tree. Will is clearly a dog-person. 

Bev would finish this task in two seconds flat. Well, she's Hercules for heaven's sake. She could fly up and take the small lump of fur back to its owner. 

Where exactly is the owner?

"Please bring her back to me!" Pleaded a young girl from beside Bev. 

Will, from his height on the tree, could clearly see that the young girl is about of teenage years. 

"Pocket! Come down!" The girl called. 

Who calls their cat 'Pocket'?

For a moment, Will heard a tap on the earth. And then he was face to face with Bev. 

"You're taking too long." She tells him. She takes the cat, who had a similarly unamused look as Bev, and both descended back to the girl. 

"Oh, thank you very much!" The girl joyously exclaims. She cooes to her pet, "Pocket, you are bad. Say sorry to these people."

Everybody looked at the cat in amusement. 

Will was still looking like a koala bear. 

"Sorry."

The girl smiled at Bev and the others. "Thank you, Hercules! Psyche!" And then left. 

Will then turns to vith to his side, and then down. "Can someone help me get down?"

"Jump! We'll catch you!" Either it be Jimmy or Brian, Will wouldn't agree to that kind of stupidity. "Come on, it'll be just like those trust exercises." 

"Well I'm a grown man, I won't take the chance of you turning into a trampoline and fly me to the moon."

"Now look who's talking like a grown man." Bev snorts. "We'll leave you here or we call fancy-suited foreign man."

"He's a doctor!" Will shouted from the tree. "And he's--"

"Called Hannibal, yeah. We got that."

Will huffed as he loosened his embrace on the tree. Scraping his skin on the rough tree bark. Then stops. 

"Will, there's an ice cream parlor in the other block. We'll wait for you there." Bev informs him as she notices that its futile waiting. Will would take all day. 

"What?! Don't--" 

Jimmy faces Bev, "Hey, it's bad that we just go right ahead without him."

Will was thankful to Jimmy for being considerate. 

Brian then says, "What flavour do you like? We'll order for you."

"He likes strawberry." Jimmy answers for Will. 

"Okay, we'll order for you!" Brian shouts as they started to go. 

Will frowned as his teammates' voices became faint. So they were serious about leaving him. Damn. 

He lets his hold on the tree loose and made him fall on the grassy ground. Not even the grass made his fall softer. 

But car wheels screeched when he knew his back started aching on the grass. 

'I feel dumb. And numb. I feel dumb and numb.' He thinks sardonically. 'Even my thinking process is affected. Did I break my spinal cord?'

He hears a car door close and steps approaching him. 

'If I broke my spinal cord then there's a high chance I'm dying already.' His fingers twitched on the grass. 'There's no blood. Internal bleeding.'

"Will, are you all right?" A familiar voice asks. 

The hero looks straight up and sees his therapist. Face folded in concern. Eyes scanning through Will to see if there were any visible injuries. 

Will chuckled, but it came out more of a wince. "Am I dying?"

Hannibal pulled out his phone and called for an ambulance. 

Will sighed. He'll get an earful from Jack later. But he hopes the others get more of it than him. For being complete assholes. 

 

"What the /hell/ were you /thinking/?!" Jack hollered as promised when the heroes got back home. "It's just a cat! How could one of you go to the hospital for saving a /cat?!/"

"We're sorry, boss." Brian mumbles into his chest. 

Apparently, Hannibal had become such a dedicated presence in both Jack and Will's surroundings. He is always asked for a second opinion by the former. A consultant. And he's always there when Jack makes a scolding on the heroes. And when Agent Crawford does his frequent scolding, Hannibal tend to scan all four heroes face and linger most of the time at Will's. 

Will's expressions are mostly masked, concealed. Sometimes Hannibal thinks he could predict what Will is thinking by that time he reads the hero's face but is dismayed when the result is far from his hypothesis. 

"Alright, dismissed." Jack says, satisfied when Brian was already wide eyed and he seem to be unable to close them. 

Hannibal approached Will before he could leave the room. "What are you thinking, Will?"

Will didn't meet the doctor's eyes. Instead, downcast in deep thought. 

"When Bev saved the cat, and the girl who owns the cat made it say sorry," he drawls, picking words delicately like they were thumbtacks. "The cat said 'Sorry'."

Hannibal was surprised. Wow, he thought Will was thinking about how Jack is unfair to his squad. Eventhough Hannibal doesn't quite agree with that statement. 

Will grins wearily, turning to look at Hannibal momentarily before going back to staring intently at the floor. "I know it's... wierd."

Hannibal assures him, "Not wierd, but different." He keeps silent for a moment before responding to the former subject, "You may have had read its thoughts."

"No, I saw its mouth move and form the words like a human mouth."

Hannibal only stares at him, concerned. 

Will sighs, "Nevermind. Anyway, thanks for saving me, Dr. Lecter."

He smiles, "Of course, anytime Will."

 

"'Anytime, Will'?" Mischa questions incredulously, placing the tray of their beverages on the coffee table. "You seem to constantly lose your eloquent tongue, continuing your appointments with him."

They were lounging outside of Bedelia's backyard, appreciating the Baltimore air. Two days before Mischa's permanent leave from Hannibal's house. 

Hannibal frowns as Mischa sat down across him. "Don't forget, sister dear, that you keep discouraging me from using my 'eloquent tongue' as you had said."

"Not because of a hero."

Bedelia pours a cup of tea for herself. "Among the billions of fish in the sea, it takes one rare fish to understand another rare fish."

Hannibal nods, "Of course."

Mischa grins at her brother's lack of a better reaction. But she didn't tease him on it when her phone rang in her bag. She excused herself and went to answer it. 

She adds, "So let your-- what did he say-- 'wierdness' act as a medium to understand Will Graham. You are a psychiatrist, Hannibal. You understand your patients. Will Graham's ability is not so different from your proffession." She reminds him. "I believe you can understand each other."

 

Hannibal wore his suit jacket, their session finishing in light terms. And Will appeared more at ease if Hannibal may assess the flow of their conversation. 

"What is it?" Will asks from his side of the table. 

Hannibal turns around, midway of buttoning half of his jacket. "Pardon?" 

"You always tell me smaller advices before you leave. Or I leave, if a mission was nearer your area."

"I told Agent Crawford that it would be advisable that you come to my office. A sense of escape, if you will."

The hero laughs pitifully, "I bet Jack found a loophole in your psychological escapede. No matter where we are, there will always be trouble."

Hannibal smiles, "Fair enough." He fixes the front of his suit with a smooth pat. "To answer your question. Will you do me the honour of gracing my dinner table?"

"Dr. Lecter," Will asks, mock offended nevertheless laughing, "are you asking me in a date?"

Hannibal smiles at his reaction, "It can be anything you like."

 

"You really seem to lose your," Mischa forks a baby potato and raises it, "mint marbles."

Hannibal chuckles, "It's parsley."

"Your Paisley covered marbles." She eats it and pushes it down her throat with a sip of wine. "And who will get down on the ground to get it back for you?"

"Won't you pick up the pieces?" Hannibal asks her goodnaturedly.  

She pouts at him, "I wasn't finished, brother mine. It had a sexual joke after it. Though how rude would I be to say it on the dinner table?"

"How was your day then?" Hannibal questions, hoping Mischa will quietly oblige. 

"I met a fan." She says, a smile on her face. 

"A fan?"

"Yes, an electric fan, Hannibal." Mischa sighs, eating another baby potato. "What happened to you, brother mine? You're becoming less attentive to what I'm saying as of late. Somehow, it offends me."

"Forgive me."

"All will be forgiven, til I meet this creature that has left my brother smitten." She says, a playful smirk forming on her face as Hannibal looked at her as if she just said a bad word. 

 

Tobias Budge was once a humble music shop owner who taught children to play stringed instruments. That was until 5:47 pm on a Wednesday evening that he was taken to prison for converting people's vocal cords into musical boxes, magically. 

And he refused to bring his victims back to normal, so those unfortunate people agreed to be relocated into an isolated facility for the time being while the government search for a cure. 

"Why did you do it?" Jack started as they shackled Tobias Budge onto a table, his wrist constricted from moving even a bit. 

The villain did not answer. 

"Mr. Budge, why did you turn those people into musical instruments?"

Tobias Budge still did not answer. 

From behind the one-way mirror Will sighed in frustration. 

Jimmy caught this. "What's up?"

"Tobias Budge will never speak up."

"Why?"

Will jerked his head to the villain in the other room, "His voice is cut off too."

Jimmy's jaw dropped in shock, "You mean--"

"That he casted whatever magic on himself? Yeah. Exactly."

Jimmy makes a move to leave the room, "We should tell Jack!"

Will winced, "He can't be bothered."

Jimmy scoffs goodnaturedly at him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Can't exactly lose hope just because he's hard on you." He then heads to the door. 

"Where are you going?" Will called. 

"Gonna start on dinner!" Then the door closed. 

Will huffs a chuckle, turning back on watching on Jack's futile attempt on interrogating the villain. 

 

"They've been--what? Going at it for how many months now?" Bev asks as she, Brian, and Jimmy were eating early dinner by the candlelight. The reason, Brian shortcircuited it. Will was over at Dr. Lecter's for a session. 

"Four?" Brian offered. 

"Five." Jimmy tells them. "First three months were weekly appointments, then Dr. Lecter upgraded to bi-weekly appointments by the fourth."

Bev snorts, drinking her Dr. Pepper. "I bet Will is a closet person."

"Nah, I think he'd like it in the bedroom." Brian says nonchalantly. 

Bev slaps his can off the table. "I meant that he's gay." 

Brian does the same to her can, "That's what I meant too."

Jimmy sighs, "Children, no fighting."

"Well, she started it!" Brian says accusingly, pointing at Bev. 

Bev flicks his ear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't bother with corrections at the moment. My brain is squeezed dry.


	3. Nemesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nemesis - the goddess of vengeance. 
> 
>  
> 
> Je suis desole. The my Muse and I are in a on and off relationship. She'd rather stay in front a fan than follow me in the scorching heat. 
> 
> At least I'm here now, right?
> 
> I apologize to the two whom I promised to. I write and update through my iPod touch. So it's totes limited. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy.

Will goes back to Baltimore, to that three storey high (and seven storey low) mansion he had unconsciously called home. It is vaguely undecidedly called home in Will's mind because in it he doesn't feel one bit lonely. 

Far from it. He shares moments with Bev, Brian and Jimmy. And it makes him feel glad inside, content, that he lives in a house with people like him. 'Heroes' the press had called them, and later Jack did about the same, followed by everyone else in the bureau. 

"Will?" Came Jimmy's voice from upsairs. "There's lasagna in the oven if you haven't eaten." He shouted. 

Will sheds off his jacket, making a beeline towards the kitchen, dropping his jacket on the couch. "Is it edible?" He asked, just for precaution, since Brian and Jimmy tend to prank each other and it affects Will and Bev, and Bev sometimes takes part on it if she was feeling it. 

Will hears a muffled scoff. "It's lasagna, Will. We're not God." Brian says. All four of them had wasted time and effort for an attempt of the perfect lasagna in the past. Bev had broke the stove in frustration, Will's attempt caused the smoke detectors to go off, Brian looked like he waited for the tooth fairy to come only to have fallen asleep, and then Jimmy tripped before anyone can take a taste of his recipe and no one dared to eat it since by the time he got it back in the pan there were grass and ants crawling on it. 

The empath could only laugh in response as he opened the oven and pulled out the warm pan out, aluminum foil covering it, keeping the warmth perserved. He smiles to himself when he sees half of the leftover lasagna had his name inscribed with tomato ketchup  and the dot of the 'i' a fail attempt of a heart. Must be Brian. 

He takes out a small platter and a fork to get half of his piece. Putting the foil back on top and the pan in the oven, Will heads to the living room to retrieve his jacket and take his quaint dinner to his room, only to be stopped by the sudden appearance of Jimmy at the top of the stairs. 

"Good?"

"Haven't tasted it yet." He tells him. 

Jimmy nods, stepping forward and rotating, walking beside his friend, "How was your thing with Dr. Lecter?" They both turn at the same time, into the hall of Will and Bev's rooms, at the end a shared bathroom. 

"It was fine."

Jimmy opens the door for Will. He waits until Will is inside his room, "I like your coat."

The sides of his mouth twitches up, "Thanks."

"Take me shopping one time." Jimmy says, closing the door and let Will eat his lasagna in peace. 

Jimmy then goes back to his room, to resume his chess match with Brian. 

"How is our little Psyche?" Brian asks, drinking his mug of apple juice. 

Jimmy creens his neck a bit to see if the shapeshifter changed any of his pieces, when he sees that nothing is out of place, he replies, "He's got a new coat."

Brian hums, "Fancy-Suited Foreign Man must've rubbed off on him."

"That's a good thing, right?" He leaves the door open, and takes his place across Brian, their chessboard on the bed. 

The shapeshifter grins around his mug, "As good as my knight of the shadow realms will checkmate your white ass."

 

Hannibal pours Mischa a glass of orange juice once he hears her groaning, climbing down the stairs to join him in the kitchen. 

"Oh," she mumbles miserably.

Hannibal snorts when she nearly fell on the floor when her butt slipped off the stool.

She groans, pressing her index and middle fingers to massage her temples, "I hate being human."

Her brother chuckles, placing her glass of orange juice in front her, "And why is that the conclusion of your untimely drunken state?"

"I keep forgetting my limitations." She mumbles, taking the glass between her palms. 

He glances at her unruly look. 

Hair touseled as if she participated in a brawl; face messy with eye shadow and lip shinner; her earrings were probably on the bedside drawer, though her assortment of rings are still on her fingers; her royal blue sweater slidding low to show her left left clavicle showing the black camisole underneath. But there's something awfully familiar with her disheveled look.

"Is that my--" He gets cut off. 

She sniffles, "Wouldn't mind me wearing your much forsaken clothes?" She shrugs the cardigan on her shoulder, "I hope your Superman hasn't worn this yet, I would feel bad if I cockblocked you for no reason."

He smiles assuringly, "I know you would not do peculiar acts," he places a plate of breakfast in front her, "unless you were at gunpoint to keep me safe."

She smiles brightly, the very same smile that she gave him when he looked down her crib the day she was born. 

 

\---

 

Georgia Madchen was in a daze by the time Mischa Lecter finishes the aria, watching from the off right, the right wing offstage. She was to run to Miss Mischa and hand her a bottle of water while the director and conductor talked to her about the movement she's about to do around the stage for the succeeding scenes. 

The director's assistant had to bark at Georgia, pull her back to reality, and have her hand a mere, unlabeled water bottle to the awaiting Miss Mischa Lecter.

Georgia stumbled on her feet as she hasted towards the awaiting Mischa. And almost felt out of breath for a moment after ten steps, barely an arms' reach from the woman. She was almost bewitched by Mischa's height, and the stage light was making her look like an angel, one Georgia would vote Miss Mischa should always portray. 

The woman had an amused look upon her face as Georgia's hand twitched when Mischa took it. The director and conductor are in a dome of discussion, excluding the one to execite their ideas. 

"Hey," the woman says softly before Georgia can step and about face "what's your name, darling?"

"G-georgia Madchen." She inwardly curses for the petulant stammer, how unproffessional it sounds. 

Mischa turns to the duo who were in their heated comversation, gesturing around them as if they were quarreling. Then faces the young woman, "I have a one and a half hour break for lunch. And I'm not really friends with anyone here. Would mind--?"

"To accompany you to lunch?" She babbles, then later curses at herself once again. 

Mischa is all smiles now, "I like you Georgia Madchen. Are you a hero?" She asks, probably it piqued her interest on the fact Georgia continued her sentence. 

"Not that I'd proclaim to be. At least, I think I am to my little cousin." She mutters. 

Mischa laughs. It sounds merry, life-bringing, like as if flowers are about to sprout up through the floorboards under them. 

Georgia let out an abashed smile. 

 

They settle at a quaint cafe about two blocks from the theatre. Mischa offered they drive there, Georgia says they can walk there if it would be all right with her. 

The walk was spent in companiable silence, except for the two or three thirty-somethings who stop them and asks for Mischa's photograph, and maybe autograph. 

"You should be a rockstar." Georgia tells her as the waitress left for their orders. 

Mischa smiles, "A Classical rockstar."

"Maybe just like Mozart or Wagner." Georgia suggests. "Or more, since they wrote the piece in the key of particular opera singer's pitch."

Mischa hums. 

"Can I, uhm, ask you stuff?" Georgia tries, flushing pink when the woman looks at her in puzzlement. "Like-like an informal interview, to quench my curiosities."

Mischa smiles. 

"I won't tell other people if you'd like."

Mischa dismisses her, "I trust you. Ask ahead, Georgia."

"How would you describe yourself now? Since you were nearly going to be an interior designer." She pauses, "I read it off a magazine, though."

"It's all right, darling." It makes Georgia feel mushy inside when Mischa calls her that. "Don't feel so conscious of yourself. I know I'd be if I met my favourite singer."

Georgia made a note to ask her that later. 

"To answer your question, though, I would describe myself as upcoming opera singer from small Baltimore. And fancy, too. Since I wouldn't have thought I would like a lot of the Classical art I'm performing." She shifts her eyes to somewhere over Georgia's shoulder. Nonetheless, urges the young woman to continue. 

"Who is your favourite singer?"

"Christina Aguilera. And Katy Perry." She gives an airy laugh when Georgia shows a baffled look. "I like them. But I believe you were shooting more at the basket on whom I idolize and imitate. That would be Maria Callas and Joan Sutherland." She pauses to see if Georgia wanted an explanation. "I always feel exhilerated whenever I hear Maria Callas' singing, making one feel like they were a part of the scene. And Joan Sutherland has breath control I could only imagine to imitate."

Their waitress was making her way with their beverages. 

"Have you always been naturally blonde?"

Mischa gives her an entertained look, "Aren't you?"

"I tried changing colours once or twice." Georgia answers. "I am naturally blonde."

"So am I. It had been in my family gene pool to be natural blonde."

"But you're almost platinum blonde!"

"My brother is ashen blond."

Georgia blinks, "You have a brother?"

Mischa was almost taken aback. Everyone she meets nowadays knows at least that she has a brother. She tries to remember about that magazine interview Georgia told her. No, everything was about the show, only five percent (the part Georgia refered to) were actually about the singer herself. 

"Yes, I have a brother. He's a doctor."

"In a hospital?"

"On a couch, though. Listening to people's problems." Then the side of her lips curled up, "He's a very expensive friend."

Georgia laughs, raking in the waitress' odd stare. 

 

Tomorrow is the opening night, not that Mischa would feel nervous and finicky like she would how many years ago-- and it's not like she would say it out loud.

Georgia had been such a dear, keeping her good company. Keeping too much unwanted attention at bay. Georgia's presence equally winter outfit made it look more expensive than Mischa's. So it's a win-win situation. 

Talking about unwanted attention seems like the paparazzi had suddenly added their interest on her. But when a woman in red coat, beige leather gloves and animal-printed scarf approached her in the theatre's parking lot, she immediately knew she is a reporter at most. 

"Freddie Lounds, journalist. I specialize on heros. Or any person with special abilities."

Oh, Mischa already knows where this is leading to. She just stares at the woman who rummages in her turqouise  Burkin bag strapped over her shoulder. 

"I would like any comment you could give about this picture." She pulls out a folder and hands it to Mischa. 

The singer gave a tentative look at the woman in front her, who has a anticipating look upon her face, able to await Mischa's reply for a thousand years. 

Then the blonde opens it. She presses her lips together, tasting her watermelon-flavoured lip shiner. A scrunch upon her faces, unable to come out of a assertive response of Freddie Lounds' picture. 

"There are more."

Nay, _pictures_. 

Mischa closes the folder before the temptation could get the best of her. She thrusts the folder back to the journalist. 

"Well?" 

"No comment, Miss Lounds. There are no blackmail material coming out of my lips." She mutters so softly, tone uneven, her breath even shaking. 

Freddie Lounds is hiding a good smirk behind her arm as she divided stuff in her bag to make room for the folder. "I could easily ruin both your and your brother's reputations. If--"

"I don't care."

"What?" Freddie Lounds hisses.

"I don't care." She repeats, voice becoming determined than just a moment ago. Pitch turning from her famed _conolutora_ into a _lyric soprano_. "And neither would the world."

"It was a good try." The journalist mutters frustratedly, mostly to herself. "Here, if you and your brother doctor ever had a row, you can always call me for revenge." She hands Mischa a card. "Call me whenever."

Mischa took it. But she doesn't give it a glance, very much like what she did to the retreating figure of Freddie Lounds, red curls bouncing as she she strode back to her car. 

She climbs into her own and closes the door with more force than usual, throwing the card on the seat beside her. The car roars to life with a twist of her wrist. Unconsciously, she let her eyes graze over the white card. She shook her head and drove off. 

"We will never have a row."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, that's the best sibling anyone could ever ask for.


	4. Persophone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone- Goddess of Harvest, the wife of Hades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Hannibal and Abigail's talk is a compressed and condensed series of talking sessions. I couldn't divide it to different chapters because it will make it off-track.)

Abigail's eyes drooped as she chose to ignore her Stats proffessor. She couldn't catch even a wink at all last night, she had to cram all her Chemistry notes into her head. 

What's the proffessor talking about anyway? Greek deities? 

She remembers reading something about that in the newspaper. Actually, skimmed over a news article over a man's shoulder while she the bus was jumping up and down on road bumps. Not able to hit the hay last night made her put place her bag on her lap to be ready dash straight out the door. 

Sleep threatened to overtake her mind.

_'Just a few minutes...'_

_Run._

_'Chemistry is next. It's in the other building. I'm going to be late for the quiz.'_

_Run or he'll catch you._

Behind Abigail's eyelids, the scene changed. Under her, her feet are running. Around is a forest. And fear is running alongside her. She doesn't know what's chasing her, but she knows it's something terrifying. And when she's caught, she will die. 

Beside her, her bestest and only friend, Marissa Schur fidgeted in her own seat attempting to give full attention to the lecture at hand. Abigail is already at the verge of slumber and stirring awake; sleep is starting to win the battle. 

"....quiz on Monday." The proffessor declares before dismissing all of them. 

Marissa stands up, looking down at her watch, 9:02, pats Abigail's shoulder lightly, "Abigail." She yawns. "Abigail, we need to run."

_Or he'll catch you._

RRRIIIIIIIII--

Abigail jolts awake from her sleep, eyes snapping wide, adrenaline surging throughher veins. Her grasp on her bag tightened. When Marissa pressed a concerned hand on Abigail's shoulder, something else than adrenaline is surging through her for a split second.  _Zap!_

\--IIIINNGGG!

Beside a fully awake Abigail, Marisaa Schurr fell down the classroom floor in the Chemistry building at 9:03 in the morning with a burning fever.

 

Hannibal stood in front the interrogation room where his good friend Dr. Alan Bloom is talking to a collegiate girl, or at least attempting to get her to say something. 

Both Dr. Bloom and the girl looked up to see him when he entered. 

Hannibal nods at Dr. Bloom, "If I may."

Dr. Bloom stands up and pats Hannibal's shoulder, silently wishing him good luck as he couldn't get a single word from thr girl for about an hour now. He leaves the two alone, heading to the vending machine he saw a few steps down the hall when he came here. 

Hannibal reoccupies Dr. Bloom's chair, the girl's eyes watching his movements cautiously. 

He offers her a smile, "I am Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Tell me your name."

She was reluctant at first, lips twitching and eyes shifting. But with a few friendly pushes from Hannibal using nods and 'Take your time's, she spoke. 

"A-abigail Hobbs." She responds, the end of her tone going up. 

"And you go to college?"

She nods meekly. 

"As you can see I just came here. They called me abruptly. You have to fill me in, Abigail. So please humour my questions." A complete lie. 

Hannibal knows the basics about this young girl. Jack had sent him a summation of her school records, medical records, and all readily acquired documents.

Abigail is a good student, graduated well in a local highschool. From a good family, no siblings. None eye-catching illness or disease from the usual asthma and headaches. The only eye-catching information Jack sent Hannibal is that this girl and her friend seem to have teleported from the Maths building to the Chemistry building, a five minute walk as a footnote stated.  

"What major are you taking up?"

"Business Accounting." She whispers. 

"Why so?"

"I will be taking over my father's butchery business."

"I'm guessing your father's butchery business is big that you decided to take up Accounting." He saw that when her eyes looked up from her downcast then went back down, her lips parted. It hinted something to Hannibal. 

But Hannibal must keep up the friendly, gullible act, "Did you think of another course rather than Accounting, Abigail?"

She seem to hum inaudibly, the side of her lips quirking a bit, "Fine arts."

He lets himself react pleasantly surprised. But then again, he should be. Her outfit, from Hannibal's perspective is that of a corporate attire. Blazer, blouse, hair tied up in a ponytail. She dresses up to look like a respectable accountant for the feature, if that's something to go by. 

"Please kindly tell me why you would have chosen Fine Arts."

"I-I paint. My mom paints. She taught me."

"You could paint amidst your job as an accountant." He suggests. "That is, if you'd like to be a painter?"

"I like to be a curator." She says this more firmly, even holding Hannibal down with a firm look. 

"Why didn't you choose that?" Hannibal almost felt sympathy when she shrank down. 

"My dad..." she mutters. 

He nods, "Are you and your parent's very close?"

"Everyone of my parents' friends see me to be my father's daughter." She mutters, eyes are downcast again. "Though, I like my mom more." She ponders, "And Marissa. She's my best friend." She looks up to him, "Is she okay?"

"Yes, she is." He assures her. 

"Is she okay..." she corrects herself, "is she in a coma?"

"She is recuperating in the hospital as we speak."

She bows her head in a single nod. 

Silence envelopes them. 

"Could I show myself in public?" She muses out loud. She must mean to be asking for alternative options than the placid 'no' her conscience is hammering to her. 

"Why shouldn't you?" He counters. Even though it is rude to answer a question with a question. "No matter what you do once you get out of this room, Abigail, people are bound to talk."

"What I do not wish to think of is that people around me would support me by pushing me out of the door." She states. 

"How would you rather people around you treat you?"

Hannibal silently praises her for her pensive silence, as she weighs out her options, rather than the words to come out her lips. 

"I..." she licks her lips, as if to test her newly installed vocal chords. "I know the pain would show no matter how they would disguise it through smiles and encouragements. I think," Hannibal knows this is her ultimate choice, "that unless a better driving force is to present itself to me, I would like to go into silence."

"Like a hermit."

"A hermit who scarred her best friend." She tells him. 

"Well," he smiles at her once again. "That is why they had called me here, to talk to you."

"Like a guidance councillor? Because you are a psychiatrist?"

"Yes, that is fact, but not the whole reason why I am here to talk to you. I am a hero physiologist." She gave the hint that she haven't got the slightest clue of what that is. "I study heroes, or people with special abilities. To better understand them. And that is where my knowledge of the human mind helps my studying of them."

She stares at him. 

"I believe I may present you a 'better driving force' as you have put it." 

 

Jack had called that there will be someone residing in the house, for a short while. It's to be a therapy for Hannibal's new patient. Guessing, Will came to the conclusion that Jack only agreed because the new temporary resident must have powers very much like the four occupants in the house. 

Will was reading an encyclopedia of dog breeds when he hears the crackle of tires on the gravel road of a driveway in front their house. He knew that the newcomer they are expecting is inside the car

Will thought the person to bring the new occupant to their madhouse was Jack himself, but when he opened the door to the sound of the bell, he was taken up in surprise when he was greeted with the scene of Dr. Hannibal Lecter holding onto the handle of a baby blue roller luggage. A silhoutte of a young girl near the doctor's side is evident as he pulled the door aside. 

"Good evening, Will." Dr. Hannibal greets courteously. 

Will holds the door as he silently lets them in without a word emitted. 

The girl is slouching a bit in her midnight blue blazer and lilac blouse. Legs under soft denim pants are straight. Black flats on her feet. 

"Abigail," Hannibal says, gesturing to Will amicably, "this is Will Graham, Psyche." He faces Will, then gestures to Abigail, "Will, Abigail Hobbs."

Information were clearly omitted from Jack's very blunt text message. 

Will may not be great with making friends, but when Abigail lifted her eyes to fully see him for herself, he immediately feels her emotions, her past. And one he hopes would never be associated to a young girl such as Abigail, is the secret behind the cause of her stay here and the reason for the pain she is bearing. The eyes are the window to the soul, they say. Now, Abigail needs guidance. A support. A friend. 

Taking in an inaudible breath of air to fill his lungs, he smiles for amiability's sake. However small his smile is, it seems to be acceptable to Hannibal's standards of being friendly. If his smile is anything to go by with. 

"Hello."

"Hello." She meekly echoes. 

"Will, Jack had made arrangements for Abigail to be accomodated here for the time being."

Will nods. 

The doctor glances at both his patients, before breaking the silent air that had nestled between the two by saying, "I shall meet you two for your appointments next Tuesday." They bid farewell to their therapist as he left the two of them. 

They hear the sound of Dr. Hannibal's car driving off a few seconds later. 

Not a minute passes, they hear the sound of a battlion's footsteps and the rustling of probably their proud flag from the staircase behind Will. 

Abigail anticipated a crowd. Will didn't anticipate at all. 

"Will!" Brian called from atop the stairs, sounding joyful. The other two lagging behind him, holding the paper banner like the flower girls holding up the bride's lengthy trail. "Will, Jack texted that there will be a newbie!"

"So we scavenged through the attic and found _these_." Jimmy says, lifting their banner and streamers. "Bri insisted we warm the house up for the newbie."

Bev speaks up, "I still think this is stupid." She shakes the banner in her hands. 

Will cleared his throat, a vague attempt to call thier attention to show that the newbie is already here. 

The three spot Abigail. 

Bev throws the stuff in her hands down the floor and jogs down the stairs to the kitchen. 

The other two are still frozen in their place. Then they suddenly shout gaily, "Welcome Home!"

Bev exits the kitchen and walks over to Abigail, handing her a can of cola. "Welcome to the madhouse."

 

Abigail is staying until the end of the month. And nobody minded. Actually, everybody feels glad they have someone to baby in the house. Last time that happened the baby was Will and they kept calling him 'sugar baby'. It stopped three days later when Will had enough of it and called Dr. Lecter for help. So imagine Dr. Lecter openning the door to the scene of Brian forcing an exagerrated baby pacifier into Will's mouth, and Jimmy holding Will's hands down. 

"Really?" Abigail asks. "You do things like that?"

Brian nods, "Keep that a secret between the four of us, OK?" He winks, gesturing to her, him, Jimmy and Bev (who snorts). 

Abigail was grinning, she nods. 

Will came back from the trip to the toilet and they resume their movie on the TV.  _Captain America 2._

Abigail sits comfy between Brian and Jimmy. Bev chided that Abigail is thier child. Then Brian countered by saying Bev is the aunt and Will is the curly-haired plant they put on the couch to sit beside them while watching TV. 

Will telekinized Brian's hand to slap himself on the face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have suggestions or ideas for the story, don't keep it to yourself. I'm open. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Daphne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daphne- independent-minded, love- and marriage-hating young huntress and a follower of Artemis. Her father is the river god Peneus. 
> 
> http://www.dl.ket.org/latin/mythology/3fables/love/daphne.htm

"Are you absolutely _sure_ , Will." It's the third time Jack asked and it's starting to get on Will's nerves. 

"Yes Jack, I'm positively sure." 

Three identical cases of young girls being abducted, missing for days, until they wind up in some place else. And all three in Minnesota, in the span of a week. 

"Something must had been taken from from him. Must be his daughter." Bev suggests, waving to the pictures of the girls in front of them. 

The three cases of abduction had been added to their file of the Minnesota Shrike. The Shrike's victims had been undiscriminatingly from around Minnesota, those with superhuman abilities. His first known reported case was a young woman to have the ability to fly. Her body was found hanging from a tree, half of the composition of her blood had been sucked of from the back of thw neck. The Shrike didn't appear until two years later. And from there, the Shrike's victims exponentially increased as time passed. 

Jimmy hummed as he narrowed his eyes at the pictures of six of the Shrike's current victims. "They all seem to look like..."

"Abigail." Will finished, unconsciously picking up on Jimmy's sentence. 

Jack snapped his eyes at Will's head, "And where's Abigail? Is she safe?"

"At the house, with Brian." Bev answers. "Yeah, she's safe."

 

"Hullo?" Brian says as he answered the phone. He then hands it to Abigail. 

Abigail pressed the home phone to her ear, "Abigail Hobbs speaking."

  _"Abigail,"_ says her mom's voice full of laughter, _"when will you be visiting home?"_

Abigail laughed, grinning at Brian when he gave her a wierd look. "It's my mom."

Brian gave her a thumbs up as he started on tossing the salad. 

"Hey, mom. What's up?"

  _"Baby, your father's worried sick. He's more of a mother hen than I am. He had me call you to ask when you'll be back."_

She hums. Being with Will, Bev, Jimmy and Brian had boosted her into optimism no matter how they keep insisting it to be the mental ward. How it's their homey mental ward. And they made Abigail feel at home in no time. She had smiled and laughed so much with them than she ever did on outside world. 

But that doesn't excuse her from missing her own home too. Dad and mom had only gave birth to only one child. Nevertheless being projected with 'only-child' stereotypes. They made sure she was brought up right, thay she's love. 

"I'll be coming home soon, Mom." She assures. "Tell Dad I miss him too." 

  _"All right, bye. Love you, Abigail."_

"Love you too, Mom. Bye." She then hangs up. 

Brian is all smiles when Abigail turned to hand Brian back the phone. 

"What?"

He shakes his head, "You remind me of my own family, before this hero thing recruited me."

Abigail's brows raised in surprise. "Wasn't Mr. Crawford the one who recruited you?"

"Yeah, Jack. Then Bev. Only until Will showed me his powers I agreed." He heaves, "But I had a real family before." He looks away, narrowing his eyes, "Before they died."

"You-you don't have to tell me." She whispers. 

"I...I was a teenager like you when my powers showed. I grew too big while my sister and me were in the kitchen. Our parents were shouting, fighting. And then I told my sister about my abnormality. She urged me to show her. I grew. And I hit the gas. A spark started." He closes his eyes shut. "Next thing I knew I was outside, watching our house burn. Watching my family burn." 

Silence hung heavy in the atmosphere. 

Abigail watches the man stare at the bowl of salad. Brian is pensively staring at it, and the same time not. As if lost into another time. 

Then he huffs a humourless laugh. "I remember my sister was preparing salad too that night."

Abigail wanted to go around the island counter and hug Brian. As she thinks of it, his story behind joining the FBI's hero squad is so dark compared to hers for being here. 

  _"You must not lose hope, Abigail."_ She remembers Dr. Lecter had told her during their last appointment. 

"I'm so--"

Her sympathy was cut when the front door openned, and Will, Bev and Jimmy entered shouting "We're home!"

The change of expression on Brian's face is instantaneous. As if the words of his account on his family's tragic end were not uttered at all in the past five minutes. 

"Momma's gunna feed his bunny rabbits!" He chides, lifting the bowl of salad. 

Following his example, Abigail wiped the sympathetic expression on her face and smiled as the three came into the kitchen. 

"How's bonding with Daphne?" Bev asks as she plucked a carrot stick from the salad bowl and munching on it with candid don't-give-a-flying-fuck as Brian scolded her. 

Abigail smiles, heart aching a bit when her mind whispered to her about Brian's words. Nonetheless, "I like it. Bonding."

Will smiles warmly, which Bev and Jimmy mirrored smally, "That's good."

 

Garett Jacob Hobbs prepared a small romantic dinner for Louise with candles, rose petals and wine. 

Inevitably, while they both lay down in thier bed contented, Louise had to ask. 

"What's all this for?"

Garett sat up and faced his wife, she follows him. "You know I love very much. That I'd go through hell and back again just to see you and our daughter safe."

Louise started to lose the flush of pink on her face acquired from thier drinking of wine. "What did you do?" 

"So all of us be happy together." He trails. 

"Garett. Garett, what did you do?" She raised her voice, begging, stuttering as she had vague realization that her husband had done something bad. 

"For Abigail."

 

Abigail eventually went back home to Minnesota. She promised she'll visit the heroes whenever she can and as much as she can. 

She had had hugged each four of them, and when it was Brian's turn, he said, "Sometimes, you need to transform too to keep up."

Neither have let go. Abigail decidedly asked, "Is that something to do about   _your_ power?" Then asked as she broke away, "Why are you called 'Daphne'?" The other three crowded behind her. 

Brian smiled, "Apollo fell in love with her, and when he caught her, she turned into a tree."

"So you're gonna turn into a tree?" She asks playfully. 

He shrugs. 

Then they group hugged. 

 

"I checked every name around the Hobbs family for any person who could have possibly held a grudge against them. And no one turned up suspicious" Bev says as she walked into the room. "Not even one of her classmates. Her teleporting with Marissa Schurr to the Chem building became a shock to them. So it showed that no one expected her to have abilities." 

Jack turns to Will. 

Will nods. "Must be someone close to them. Or--" The screen flashed a picture of Abigail with her parents. "What does Abigail's dad do?"

Brian looks up from the tablet in his hands. "Construction." 

Jack raised a sceptical brow. "What are you getting at, Will?"

Psyche closes his eyes. His mind's eye fixed on the picture of Abigail's father. He needs to ask, "What happened between Garett Jacob Hobbs and his wife?"

"Nothing out-of-the-ordinary, I'd say." Bev says. 

Brian stares at Will. 

Jimmy entered the room with a file in his hand. "I just got back from the Minnesota Hospital." 

"Report." Will breathes. The other three kept in reverent silence. 

"Abigail wasn't suppose to be the only child. Louise Hobbs was suppose to give birth to a baby boy. But the biopsy says that Louise Hobbs slipped down the stairs in a mall." He says as he skimmed for important details. Then he peels out a green sticky note. "Nurse must've added this. Says Hobbs blamed himself."

Will watches Louise Hobbs fall down the stairs. Garett screaming after her, horrified. And then _click_! He sees Garett kissing Abigail good night after tucking her to bed. Garett waking in the morning and be surprised as he sees Abigail sleeping on the porch. 

"He abducted those people with special abilities and experimented with them to extract some kind of serum to be used as an antidote for Abigail to surpress her powers." He says. 

Jack faces Will, "Are you positively _sure_?"

A nerve cracked, Will snorts, "No." Then walks out of the room. 

Jack shouted after him. "Where are you going?"

"'M gonna catch the Shrike!"

 

Mischa flinches when Hannibal's phone buzzed on her wooden table, the abrupt sound disrupting her train of thought as she unconsciously drank her teacup, nearly spilling its contents on herself. 

She places the cup back on its respective platter and pulls Hannibal's phone to read his new text message, or the first few words of it. 

_'D Minnesota shrike is Garett Jacob Hobbs.'_

A few moments later, Hannibal comes in with a plate of scones. 

"Who's Garett Jacob Hobbs?" She asks, pushing his phone back in his place on the table, or where it was if memory serves well. 

Hannibal puts the plate near her right hand, then takes his phone, "The father of Abigail." 

Mischa follows him move about her apartment; an act to conceal his phone from her, which gave her the thought that it must be his 'not-boyfriend'. Cute. "William Graham who texted?" A Cheschire smile curled on her lips. 

Hannibal frowned. He intend to correct her that it's just _'Will'_ but thought against it. He reads the message again, "I'll be picking him up from his place."

She pouts. It's the 16th time he's to leave her. Why she keeps count? Because it's the only thing she does anymore when her brother visits her, rather than take into account what Hannibal's wearing. When Hannibal does visit her, or her him, they have a few minutes of pleasantries and then one of them goes to the kitchen to get a thing or two and then total silence until someone's phone (most of the time Hannibal's) rings. Mischa spends the reamaining minute or less teasing her brother while he tries to locate his coat. And that is what's happening. 

"Are you staying?" Hannibal asks as he was rounding the couch to his way to the front door, his phone ready to dial back. 

"I'll be going to Bedelia's place if she is not to busy." She responds, pulling out her phone from her purse. 

 

To celebrate Abigail coming home, the family of three made late lunch together. 

They were all busy in the kitchen when the phone rang. 

Abigail was nearest to the phone. "Hello?"

  _"May I speak to Garett Jacob Hobbs please?"_

Abigail walked around the kitchen and handed the phone to her dad, who had to wipe his hands off water. 

"Hello?"

"They know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abigail and Brian are close. But you know those 'we're like the bestest friends, but why don't we talk anymore?'. Yeah? I suffer from those kinds of relationships.... I'm not bitter. 
> 
>  
> 
> Cut-off from the story: 'Mom was suppose to give Abigail a baby brother when she was four, but Baby Brother gave alot of complications and he never made it through. Mom went through what Dr. Lecter had named Post Partum Depression. After a year, dad and mom made sure that Abigail is loved.'


	6. Hades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hades - king of the Underworld, god of death and the dead.

"Thank you, Agent, Doctor." Louise Hobbs says as Abigail stood beside her, giving both men warm smiles. 

To Will, Louis Hobbs is those kind of kind moms who make sure you're comfortable in your new house. In short, she's a nice woman. 

She hugs Abigail tightly, then both of them exchange a sotto voce smile of 'welcome back home' and 'I'm home'. 

Garett Jacob Hobbs comes out of the house and stood behind his wife, ruffling Abigail's hair slightly then turned toface them. 

"Thank you for bringing Abigail back to us safely." He says, reaching out to shake Hannibal's hand, holding it firmly, looking at him in the eye and nodding. Then to Will. 

Will attempts a amicable smile, but accidentaly glances up and saw Hobbs in the eye. In the glint of his eye, or the lack of a natural glint, was something to cause a disruption in the aura Will had surmised as calmness from Garrett Jacob Hobbs. As if the blue water of what Will had portrayed of Hobbs had suddenly become ripples of red. His smile dropped as thier hands broke up. He saw Hobbs' mouth twitch as he replaces his hands on his wife's shoulder. 

"Good bye, Abigail." Hannibal says last as he led Will down the small stairs, back to his car. 

\--

Hannibal glances sidewards to Will, holding the stirring wheel to the road's direction. "You've been awfully silent for five minutes." He states. 

Will furrows his brows in thought, eyes staring off the road. "It's Abigail's dad. I felt... something _different_ from him." He closes his eyes, covering his eyes with his hand. "Stop. Please stop the car." He says pathetically. I need to think clearly, the motion is distracting me."

Hannibal obliges and drives to the side of the road to stop. He turns the engine off and sees Will already closed eyes. "What is it, Will?"

Psyche doesn't answer for a few moments. When he does, words too fast for Hannibal to comprehend rushed out of Will's mouth. 

"The Minnesota Shrike used its first victims as supplies and experiments to come up with a serum that nullifies one's abilities. The Shrike was successful. And he used it. Not against, but to contain; to prevent. To prevent someone he knows very well, someone he loves deeply from using thier powers. Should the one who takes the serum in, the sufferer, they never felt it. So it was either taken in voluntarily or the Shrike put it in the sufferer's food. Which means that the serum could be in either form: solid or liquid. But since it has no known side effects, it could be as well as be water since the serum could be untraceable." Will cracks his eyes open, turning to Hannibal, "Are we there yet?"

Hannibal pulled out his phone while talking to Will of his deduction, or psychic deduction. "Let me call Jack." He hits call and instantly says what his memory can muster when the other line was picked up. 

"Will came in contact with Garett Jacob Hobbs. He believes that Abigail's father is the Minnesota Shrike. Will talks about a serum that surpresses one's powers without noticeable side effects. We are about five minutes from the Hobbs house."

Pause. 

_"Uhm, okay. Do I call the police now?"_ Came Mischa's confused voice. 

Hannibal pulled his phone from his ear and read the contact ID for good measure. He heaves inaudibly and wipes a hand over his face. Mischa shouldn't have heard any that. 

"Hello, Mischa. I apologize for making you worry." He says. "Please discard what I had said."

_"Are you in any trouble?"_ She asks, voice hinting of worry. 

"Yes, good bye."

 

Mischa stares at her phone in astonishment. For Hannibal to abruptly end his call, without supplying a thorough explanation of why they are in trouble. She turns to Bedelia who is calmly sipping tea by the kitchen counter. 

"That was... sudden." She tells the older blonde, joining her once again by the counter to resume their idle chit-chat. 

Bedelia hums. "Well, he _is_ in contact with the FBI, and practically they had named him one of their own, so." She makes a non-commital gesture to Hannibal's short phonecall a moment ago. "I believe, Hannibal being in unusual, 'trouble' in our meaning, is justified with his role with the FBI." 

Mischa glances at her phone. "I guess." She nods, taking her teacup up to her lips, "I guess your right." She takes a sip, then opens her mouth to resume their talk about Casta Diva when her she remembers something.

"What is it?" Bedeli asks in worry. 

"I have to call my manager to about my duet." Mischa says, dejected. "You know, I sometimes imagine our era without the aid of electronics." She tells Bedelia, taking her phone. "I'd be quick."

Bedelia smiles softly at her, "I don't mind, go."

Mischa disappearing down the hall, Bedelia glanced down her own to make sure she wasn't accidentaly forgetting something. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I procrastinate, that's my worst, shitty trait. I blame stereotypes.


	7. Hercules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hercules has the strength that rivals the gods. One of the famous and beloved heroes.
> 
>  
> 
> I told myself I would post the next chapter on Sunday. 
> 
>  
> 
> *Shells- large bullets for artillery.

_Garett Jacob Hobbs held his wife in the front porch with a knife to her neck._

_Will couldn't get fast enough out of the car to save her._

_She was gasping for her last breath when Will was up the porch. The shine of her eyes fading away. Hobbs had ran back inside._

_Will took out his gun unconsciously, for a precaution and pointed it out, having had prepared his mind for the worst scenario._

_Will heard shuffling in the hallway to what he believed was the kitchen. He aimed his gun out and--_

_He had Abigail with the same knife he killed his wife with. His arm was drenched with Louise Hobbs' blood._

_Without a second thought, Will shot his arm._

_Hobbs flinched in pain, dropping the knife on the floor with a dull _tink!_ But his reflexes were fast. He procured a syringe out from thin air and slammed it on Abigail's neck, and then pushed her off. _

_Will shut his eyes close as human instinct kicked in and emptied the gun's bullets into Hobbs._

_"Will, stop!" Hannibal said as he came in the kitchen. He placed a hand over Will's, comforting him, silently telling him to let go._

_Hannibal takes the gun and puts it down on the counter, then rushes to Abigail's side._

_Will stood there in a daze.  
_  
\--

"Would have been great if we knew about the serum." Brian mutters as four of them waited for Jack in the conference hall in the underlevels of thier home. 

A week and a half had pass since the confrontation with Garett Jacob Hobbs. Will had been in therapy with Dr. Lecter since, because of the PTSD he acquired. No other information had been disclosed to any of them so they're at sea, especially when they haven't seen Will for awhile. 

Bev snorts, turning to him, "You want to go back to your old life?"

"Do _you_ want to go back?" Brian counters. 

She turns back to look up ahead, hands folded on her chest signifying her firm stand, "I honestly don't."

Jimmy nods. 

Everyone in the team knew Bev life story, so does everyone knew about everyone's life story. 

Bev was raised by her tiger mom, dad died from being a drunk. So Bev was brought up by strict rules, disciplined etiquettes, no imagination. Which horrified the others, especially Will. And it doesn't stop there, Bev had been bullied in her school. But when her 13th birthday came, her powers surfaced, and made the school look like a typhoon washed over it. 

Jack got a hold of her when she was taken in the local precint for destruction of private property. In her case, she over turned a cow. 

That's how she got the nickname 'Hercules', when Hercules had to go through his 12 trials, especially the Nemean Lion. 

"How's our Psyche?" Jimmy asked as Jack came in the room. 

"He's responding to Dr. Lecter's treatments fairly well. Still traumatized, but he's coming back." Jack states. "What I want to tell you three is,"

All three paused to listen. 

"That serum that repressed Abigail's abilities to nothing, it seems like it was just a formula in Hobbs' head. Clean up crew haven't found any traces of the serum or anything about the serum. No notes, no journals, no blood samples. Just normal house stuff." 

The three didn't know where this is going to. 

"And that's the suspicion." Jack says. 

"What do you need us to do?" Bev asks, always ready for a mission.

"Interrogate Chilton. He must know something about this serum." Jack says, rather darkly. 

 

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Chilton asks, arms wide open as he welcomed Hercules, Daphne and Echo who just marched down the FBI mini jet which landed on the runway Chilton had specifically built for visit as such. 

"What do you know about the serum, Chilton?" Bev goes straight to the matter at hand, wasting no time at all. 

"What serum?"

"The one made by Garett Jacob Hobbs." Jimmy answers with equanimity. 

He raises his brows up, a look of innocent astonishent, "Hmm? 'Garett Hobbs?' Never heard of the name."

Bev jumped the several yards of distance between them and punched Chilton square in the face. The doctor fell at impact, rolling down the ground like a soccer ball in a suit. "What do you fucking know?!"

Chilton musters enough guts to chuckle as he shakily got up. Dusting his knees and sleeves, he said, "I am in no position to tell."

Brian scowls at him, "You are in a lot of lawsuits, may we remind you. You're in a lifetime of parole."

Chilton is standing up as if nothing had happened, but the scrape on his knuckles and a gash on his cheek says otherwise. "And why do you think I'm still roaming free with my island?" He questions. 

The three heroes couldn't speak. 

"The FBI thinks I'm the panacæa. The cure. They think I'm big momma--"

Bev produced another punch straight to his stomach. She took powerful, prideful strides to him and loom over his beat up body. With a scowl on her fierce features, she says " _I'm_ big momma."

At a drop of a hat, the ground shook below them. 

Chilton, being the sick fuck he is, stood up cautiously and stepped back, a taunting smirk on his lips. 

"Bev!" Brian shouted, running to their teammate's aid.

Abruptly, a tinted-gray glass wall divided the boys from Bev, muffling their shouts and calls. They fisted their hands and boxed the glass in futile attempt. 

"Bev! Beverly!" Jimmy screams, banging on the gray glass, Brian to his left mustered all the body mass he could to his fist and punched the wall as hard as he could, and it hardly made a dent or a scratch, though it built up more of the glass wall to emerge from the cracks around Bev, cutting her off. 

Bev sneers as she twisted her body to Chilton, "You asshole!" She bended her knee to give her leverage and knock him down back to the Hell he came from, but as she was two feet from him, a tall glass wall materialized, shielding Chilton from her attack, instead she kicked at the glass and jumped higher, but the glass wall rose with her accumulating height, both behind and in front. 

She kicked at the front wall and backflipped down to the ground. Facing Chilton once more. 

Oh what she wouldn't do to wipe that smirk on the pavement. 

With a step backward, Chilton went to the direction of his lair, challenging Bev with his retreat to catch him and do her worst. 

Gladly. 

More gray glass walls emerged the the cracks of the concrete ground, making a labyrinth. And it stokes the fires of rage in Bev more than ever as the dumb maze is making her feel like an imbecilic lab rat. 

 

Chilton raises his wrist and commands his men through the radio in his wristwatch, "Bring out the lions."

 

"Beverly!" Jimmy screamed as the wall above the vestibule Chilton entered, two heavy artillery barrels appeared as the exterior wall sunk. "Bev! Guns!" He twisted on his place as Brian's hand dropped on his shoulder. 

"We can't do anything for her, J." Brian tells him sadly. "Either we wait. Or we take this to Jack."

Jimmy turns back to Bev who had managed to dodge the two shells aimed at her. Inside her glass cage, the makeshift arena is filled with dark gray smoke, the shadow of Hercules vould barely be deciphered through the smoke and dust. 

Defeated but still hoping, Jimmy says, "You go and fetch Will. He'd probably know what to do."

"I can't take that chance," Brian argues weakly, "if I were to leave you, it puts you to greater risk to be taken in by Chilton's men." Jimmy opens his mouth to retort. "Even if you do manage to turn invisible before they catch you, there's a big chance they have a Plan B and have heat vision to pick you out."

"I don't want to leave Bev." Jimmy says. 

"Ditto. But we can't help by being sitting ducks."

 

Bev watches the recoil system of the left gun as she bounced around jinking oncoming shells. All she can deduce from the two guns were that the recharge time exponentially increases by the second, she had dodged eigth from both barrels by leaping and cartwheeling through the air and now the recoil is taking four seconds, giving Bev enough time to lunge at one barrel and rip it of the wall. 

She kicks the ground and stretches her hands in front her and hold onto the nose of the gun. A second and a half before it recharges and blasts off her face. Hercules manages to pull the barrel from the wall and jumps to the other one, doing the same. 

She drops down the ground and roll, the vestibule closing down after her with heavy iron railings. The glass labyrinth had sunk back down. Jimmy and Brian are still there, though how-many meters away. 

"You okay?" Brian shouts as the distance is too wide, hands cupped around his mouth. 

"Yeah!" She replies. "You?"

"Fine! Listen, we think Will could telekinise with Chilton's brain to get to the formula!"

"You can't!" She says. "Jack had not disclosed any info on Will's location or when he's coming back!"

"There's bound to be an order for that!" Jimmy shouts, "Bri can hack into the system! We'll collect Will for you!"

Bev does not answer for a moment. There's a slight chance that Jack might have just commanded it without doing proper protocol of calling his superiors. Jack tends to call all the shots for the hero squad behind his superiors' knowledge. 

"I'll meet you in the house in 24 hours! If neither of us contact each other then, you know what to do!"

"Aye aye, cap'n!" Then both ran to the direction of the helipad. 

Bev breathes as she sees the next stage Chilton has in store for her. Taking a few steps, she stops in front the pool, looking into its depths. 

With her keen sight, she could see through the water and catch the swift slap of a flipper. 

She looks up to reconsider the plan she had formulated in her head. "So I'm guessing that the entire room had been closed so I would dive into the water and you could watch how i'd fare underwater?" She says loud enough she knows Chilton would hear through his television. 

She looks down pitifully on her boots, then to the CCTV camera she spotted to the left most corner of the ceiling. "Chilton, when I catch you, I'll make you into shoes." She threatens, then dives into the water below. 

\--

Will jolts up from sleep. Panicking, he looks around the room. 

The room is richly furnished, not his usual home or his room. Where--?

"Ah, Will. Good. You're awake." 

He looks up to find the source of the voice. 

"Hannibal? What-- Why am I here?" He questions as the doctor approaches his bed with a tray of what looks to be a plateful of food. 

Hannibal walks to place the tray on the table in the room then approaches Will. "Do you feel well, Will?"

"Yes, I believe so." He says stubbornly. "Why, has something happened?"

Hannibal eyes him in his own way of astonishment, a placid lingering stare, "You do not remember the reason behind your stay here for the past days?"

Will sat in the bed, slightly agape, "I've been out for how long? A week?"

"Less than that. You have been suffering from insomnia, this time it had worsen. You had found that sleeping in at the afternoon is bearable. Plus, a partial amnesia. I strongly believe it is your brain's way of coping." Hannibal tells him, then pauses before he could say too much of what Will would have liked. He raises the tray for acknowledgement. "I brought you lunch."

Will swings his feet to the side of the bed, "What time is it, anyway?"

"A quarter after two, if I'm not mistaken." 

Will walks towards where Hannibal is standing, sitting on the ornate chair Hannibal pulls out for him. "Does Jack know of my current condition?"

"Yes. I receive his text messages, an occassional call. He isn't too alarmed of what's happened to you." Hannibal says, setting the plate in front Will in a proper table setting, then sits across him, pouring them both a cup of tea. "If you were to ask me, I would say that he have had predicted the same event, if not similar, of this time in the past. Wouldn't you think so?" He looks up at Will. 

Will gave a glance at him before looking down at his plate, "I guess." Then he cracks a small smirk, "If I'm not Psyche, I would say you were leading me to feel overly cautious around Jack to isolate me from him."

Hannibal smiles as he places the tea close to Will's reach, "We wouldn't like that, now would we?"

Will laughs, "We wouldn't."

\--

Jimmy and Brian waited by the couch parallel Jack's secretary. They should have called prior to coming. 

The woman sitting on the settee to the couch's right had engaged to reading a women's magazine, and is running out of articles to keep herself entertained as she waits for Jack too. She had been here longer than the two heroes. 

With an annoyed sigh, the woman closes the magazine and puts it on the coffee table in front her. She turns to the two, "Called in the principal's office?"

Jimmy offers a polite smile, "No ma'am, we need to speak to Mr. Crawford to inquire about our teammate's status."

She doesn't act as theatrically surprised as the secretary had a moment ago. "Ah, so you two are part of the FBI's hero squad?"

"Yes ma'am. Daphne and Echo." Brian introduces, respectively. 

"Phillys Crawford. People call me 'Bella'." She says with a motherly smile. 

\--

Bev latched onto a neck when the creature swam near her. 

It's a chimera, she knows that much, and it moves too fast in water. 

Then the creature rose above the water, taking Bev with it. 

It roared. But as the water cleared from Bev's eyes, she saw that the roar is from a lot of heads. With nine pairs of bleak yellow eyes, it stared at Bev like a dog on a tick and plunged her back down in the water. 

She embraced the neck she had been gripping on and curled into a ball, using herself as an anchor to weigh down the creature. Both fell on the rocky seafloor. 

Cracking her eyes open, she catches sight of the creature's tail lashing towards her to her right. She stretches her arm and grabs it to counter the attack, she takes the tail (as part of it is as large as her forearm). 

It snapped its jaw at her. 

She jabbed the tail inside its wide mouth before it closes its jaw. And the tail is bit off clean. 

She swims upward to safety. 

 

\--

 

Bella is shocked. "Is that true?"

Brian nods vigorously. 

"Is 'what' true?" Came a voice as footsteps approaches the sitting room from the hallway leading to Jack's office.  

Jimmy instinctively turned invisible. Brian dropped down on the floor and turned chlorophyll green. 

"Bella!" Jack says, pleasantly surprised to see his wife visiting him. "Is everything all right?"

Bella had her face scrunched in anger. She stands up from her seat and walks up to Jack, "You may be the one stirring the ship, Jack, but you can't tell your men to jump out the boat."

"What are you talking about?" He asks, astonished. 

"Will Graham, Jack. He may have special abilities, but he's still human!"

Jack turns to his secretary. She had automatically stood up and left them before Jack could cast her a look. Back to his wife, "Bella, did you read Freddie Lounds' blog?"

"If I did or if I didn't, it is not the reason for me being angry at you! Jack, Will Graham. Did you or did you not push him to a point of what seem to be his limit?"

"I may have.--"

"I could charge a lawsuit against you!"

Jack wanted to defend himself, to tell Bella that he had done it to save thousands of lives, but to defend one's self from the people like Bella who advocates equality among of those homo metasapiens sapiens with the homo sapiens sapiens. 

"Where is Will Graham located anyway?" Bella asks as she places her hands on her waists. 

"He's currently recuperating in his therapist's home." Jack confesses in defeat. 

"Jack, you can't force Will Graham past his breaking point, or near his breaking point, it's inhumane." She reaches up and places a hand on his cheek ever so tenderly, lovingly, "Jack, it's not you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I appreciate it very much that you took time to read my story. We are far from over. 
> 
> I wanted to give Jack a reason to feel divided with Bella being a pro-metahuman and his strick attitude towards our heroes. 
> 
> Next chapter: A new persona appears...


	8. Artemis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new player enters the field...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artemis was a Virgin Huntress; the Greeks called her the Huntress  of Souls.  She protected the wild places and animals; to her was known the deep places in Nature where one could rest and regain strength.  Violence for itself was abhorrent to her, yet she was swift to deal out punishment to offenders, especially those who threatened or harrassed women.  
> http://www.amazonation.com/Artemis.htm
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: I was so inspired by Arrow (even though I'm a Marvel fan, shrug), the Arrow rescued this girl in the past and she became fixated on the Arrow that she followed him by being kinda like him. If I remember, she called herself Cupid, and yeah, she's an archer. Let's do that too. 

"...I don't give a fuck if you don't sleep!" Freddie Lounds hisses to the phone as she went towards the marker where she parked her car. "Just get me an interview with him, that's all I'm asking!" She points out as she passes the last line of cars, heels still clicking, sound echoing throughout the empty carpark. "Thank you!" She heaves in annoyance as she ended the call. Pulling out her car key, she presses the open button. 

"Get on the ground!" A man behind her hollers. 

Freddie scowls; even though the assailant couldn't see her reaction, she risks an indirect glare at him.  

Slowly rather than cautiously, she had her hand in her bag, feeling for her taser. 

The journalist is on her knees when the man speaks. "Freddie Lounds," the man says breathlesly, snuffling, "you have destroyed our life." He points a gun on her temple, "And it's only fair that I return the favour."

Out of the blue, Freddie hears the sound of a _zip!_ whizz pass above her, and not a second too late, the man standing behind her fell heavily on the carpark floor. 

Freddie, her taser in hand, searched for the person that might have procured the defense for her. Then she sees a silhoutte in the shadow of a truck. "I could've handled it." She says. 

"No. You are fully aware that your taser had short-circuited last time you used it. And you were taking a chance to use it on the man." Says the silhoutte, voice sounding electronic and an octave lower, but Freddie deduced from the silhoutte's shape is female. 

"What do you want?" Freddie demanded. 

The silhoutte of a woman emerges from the shadow and relaxes her arm holding a quiver. The area of her eyes are covered with a Zorro-like mask, blonde hair with a pouf, and a black and red overall suit that very much shows she is a hero. "I want you to write about me."

Freddie scowls, "Why should I?"

"Because," she says, swiftly pulling out an arrow and aiming at a second man creeping behind Freddie with a knife, "I just saved your life twice." The second man hacks and drops down dead. 

"Give me more times of you appearing in front by-standers, and I'll make you known." Freddie says ever so casually, then added deridingly, "A hero."

"No," says the woman, sliding, disappearing back into the shadows, "an anti-hero."

Freddie ignores as the word 'anti-hero' echoes throughout the empty parking lot; climbing into her car, unconsciously starting on an initial draft in her mind, she starts on the drive back home.

 

"A blonde 'anti-hero'," Hannibal reads from the newspaper Bedelia supplied him with that morning. "What makes me astonished is how Ms. Lounds dubbed the person as an 'anti-hero'." He comments. 

Bedelia hums, "I question why Freddie Lounds says 'blonde'." She sips her tea, "I mean, the suit is iconic enough, why single out on the hair? The FBI's hero squad doesn't even wear costumes, not even matching uniforms." She points out. 

Hannibal agrees, his mind drifts off to Will Graham who will be waking up anytime soon in the other room. But Bedelia would not know that, would not need to know at all. 

Then as if Bedelia picked up on Hannibal's thoughts, "Talking about the FBI's heroes, how is your patient faring, Dr. Lecter?"

Hannibal cracks a small smile before washing it down with a sip of his tea. "He has been doing fine, better than before." The doctor says, rather proudly, though Bedelia wouldn't know it. 

 

Georgia Madchen pushed her hand into her bag dipper than her bag can swallow, she didn't wat to see it. Not at all. 

"Georgia," the stage manager calls, "get your head in the game." 

Then Georgia hears Mischa Lecter hit a high note. Georgia turns to the stage manager, "Sorry."

The stage manager points at her in fair warning. "Ms. Lecter would need to change into the red dress and shoes. Make sure the costume dep didn't put the wig beside the shoes again."

Georgia nods and goes to the other backstage. 

Why must keeping a secret be so hard? All the antagonists in the TV do it so well, and acting is basically lying. 

She should know what acting feels like, she used to love acting in school plays back in elementary. Well, she donned the cardboard dragon and chased the boy playing the knight away, the boy-knight crying into their teacher's arms. And then she would help the girl playing the damsel in distress down the tower, which is simply three steps of platform. Or if she felt angry, she scared the knight away and left the stage. 

Georgia stopped in front the clothing rack of Mischa's costumes. Standing in front the red dress, she pinched the scarlet cloth, lost in its ruffles and folds in unreadable nostalgia. 

She turns when she feels a presence behind her. 

"Georgia," Mischa calls, "are you all right?" Concern laces in her words. Lace. That is what Georgia had associated with everything of Mischa Lecter. Of others, she would say something as pedestrian as 'concern in their tone' or 'ruled with concern'.

Mischa steps out of her shoes and on to the cool tiled floor. "It was a bad experience, I know." She whispers comfortingly, hand on Georgia's arm for both support getting into her shoes and soothing her friend with amicable pressure. "You need to be strong. There's still so much to live for."

Georgia tries not to think back to the orange bottle of sleeping pills in her bag. "I-- I don't know. I only have my mom, and I can't even see her. I don't have anyone." She turns to Mischa, tears rolling down her cheeks, "I don't have anyone to live for." She sobs. 

Mischa took the girl into her arms. "Georgia, my dear friend," she cooes. "There is always something to live for." She assures. "Reporting to the police, confessing what misfortune fate had been thrown at you, I get that its hard."

Georgia sobs onto her shoulder. 

"If you can't find something to live life for. You have me. Live your life for me. We have each other." Mischa says, hugging her tighter, making Georgia remember her own mother hugging her when she used to have a nightmare. She had wished that what had happened to her was just a bad nightmare, but in Mischa's concrete presence, it dawned to her, it was not. 

 

"Good evening, Mischa." Hannibal answers his ringing phone once His hand reached it

 _"Do you have any expertise on rape victims?"_ Instantly came his sister's firm voice. 

"What do you mean?" He pauses. "Are you--"

 _"No. I have this friend,"_ she starts,  _"and she doesn't really have anyone to go to."_ She sighs dutifully, _"And I want to help her in return."_

"When did this happen to her?" He asks as he took out a pad of paper and his pen. 

 _"A month ago. She had only told me about two weeks ago."_ Hannibal hears her shift in her place, probably her couch.  _"I am quite reluctant to tell you, I confess. But knowing your proffesion, I know you at least have contacts who specialize on rape cases."_ He scribbles it down. 

Hannibal hums, "Indeed. I thank you for your trust, Mischa."

He hears the smile on her voice, making him smile too,  _"I would always trust you, Hannibal. It's because it was her secret to tell."_

"Yes, I understand that. She's lucky to have such a caring friend as you." He says. He puts it back on its place on his side table

"Was that your sister?" Will asks, rousing from his sleep. 

Hannibal smiles tenderly down at him, "Yes, dear Will."

Will groans as he drags himself to sit up, resting his head on Hannibal's shoulder, mind still half asleep. "She must be pretty, beautiful like you." He mumbles. 

Hannibal takes Will's hand and kisses his knuckles, "She is. My friends say that she is my female counterpart."

Will snorts a laugh, "Huh, you with boobs."

"She is her own person." Hannibal tells him, "I adore her. We have similar tastes, likes and dislikes."

Will gives a lazy grin, "Yeah, like men?"

Hannibal turns his head at Will. The hero feels his movements and mirrors him, though confusion evident on Will's expression.

"What?"

The doctor leans down and sucks at Will's lower lip, pulling it slightly, then releasing it when he knew Will got his implication.

"Oh, wow. Ow. Sorry." Will says with a pout, sucking his bruised lip between his teeth to make it feel better. "Sorry. Geez, Doc. I'll remember not to say things so lightly."

Hannibal hums, "Apology accepted."

 

"I seriously think that they're like together in bed or in some equally sexual act." Brian says as he was fidgety in the living room, pacing in front the TV while Bev and Jimmy use him as a substitute entertainment for the TV. He stops, arms raised to press on his temples with his palms. "I can't help but imagine both of them--"

Bev and Jimmy flips on the couch, jumping from their seat, "Shut up!" Both shout in unison. 

Brian gets startled, eyes wide at them in surprise. "What?"

"Imagination is a contagious thing." Jimmy tells him. "And you," he points at Brian, "will taint our sound minds. We would never look at Will the same way again."

Brian snorts stubbornly, "Why?"

"Preconcieved notion." Bev answers monotonously. 

 

Jack Crawford marched inside the conference room with much military-stance. "I need Brian to hack into Tattlecrime."

Brian raises a brow, Jimmy drops his jaw, Bev was the only intelligle one to ask "Why?"

"This Lounds woman is becoming a menace," he tells them through gritted teeth, slamming a folder on the table. 

Brian stretches his arm an extra two feet to get the folder, "Since when was she  _not_ a menace?" He counters. 

"If Brian were to actually hack into Tattlecrime," Bev says, as she was the only rational one, "what would stop Freddie Lounds from posting the article again?"

Brian opens the folder, he reads the headline. It reads: _Phantom Archer: More Useful that FBI's Heroes?_ Daphne scowls, even the title is already a slap on the face. "I will ravage Tattlecrime like a scavenging lion." He growls. 

Jimmy looks at him from across the table, "What, ravage-kill or ravage-sex--?"

Brian turns to him in anger, "Ravage-kill, of course!"

Jimmy shrugs, offering "Hate sex."

Bev ignore the two, "And what assurance does the FBI have that Tattlecrime won't trace it back to us? Plus," she adds heavily to Jack's chagrin "children look up to us."

Children do look up to them, the adults with special abilities too. Psyche, Hercules, Daphne and Echo does the weekly communal of digging into the internet and read any fan fiction they pass by or critique any fan art that strikes their fancy. Jack knows this. His superiors revel in the incandescent limelight the heroes gain. In fact, they encourage Jack to put the FBI in the crowd's good graces. Freddie Lounds and her readers seem to refuse to bite the bait the heroes cast whenever the media flocks to them post-battle. 

"Then we contact the Phantom." Jack announces. 

Brian jumped up from his seat, walking to the door, "I'll get the Ouiji board."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannigram! Yes, that's my gift to you beautiful people. 
> 
> I was suppose to upload this a week ago! But internet was crap, sowwee. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is a good thing, kudos and loves are better things. ;)


	9. Echidna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Echidna is the mother of most monsters in the Greek mythology. 
> 
> THANKS FOR 1,000 HITS! I've been waiting for 999 to turn into a four-digit number, and YAY! I was waiting for the counter to be 1,000 before I post the next chapter. 
> 
> Actually, I wrote an entirely different chapter 9, this chapter was labeled '8.9'. I couldn't post another Hannigram part when the readers don't know how they started! But during the fabrication of this chapter (I've finished chapter 9, wait for a few days to lapse), I was thinking of how Hannigram came to be, then i read that it was in the chapter 9! (remember, this is 8.9) I wanted to scrape this, but there were important things in here! And it felt that chapter 9 was a filler! And I was like 'dang, nvm, I'm continuing this.'
> 
> And yes, I do talk like a text message, btw.

Will Graham left an hour before Mischa arrived for the weekend. If she did catch Will leaving at 8 in the morning, there are some consequences and unwanted questions to answer to.  Mischa hammering him is the worst thing next to a morning hangover. 

"So what's happening in the world of Hannibal Lecter?" She asks as she poured for herself a cup of Oolong tea. "Any new chants? Any weird insidious patients?"

Hannibal looks at her exasperated, "I'm a therapist, not a priest."

She smiles sweetly, "They rhyme, though." She takes a sip. "How's your patient?"

"Which patient?" He asks, taking a bite of the churro Mischa brought. 

"The one with abilities who works for the FBI. What was his name? Daphne?" 

"Psyche." He corrects. 

She nods, taking out a churro for herself, "Mm, I never really understood why male heroes have female names, while the lone female hero is 'Hercules'."

"I believe it must be because of the American forefathers attempting to build the country like Greece." Hannibal tells her.*

She nods, following it with a bite and a sip, "Yes, I remember reading something about Washington portrayed as Zeus in a sculpture."* She drinks, "So how's Psyche?"

Hannibal glances and smiles cryptically at her, "Doctor-Patient confidentiality, dear sister."

She pouts, "That never stopped you before!" She interjects. "You jokingly promised that I can inherit your practice and patients."

He chuckles, "Yes, ' _jokingly promised_ '."

"Que, you tell me all about him." She says. 

"I apologize, Mischa, I simply cannot say a word." He simply tells. "Government protocol."

She frowns, "You have to be pulling my leg, Hannibal." She pauses, then accuses "You like him, don't you?" 

"Yes, of course I like him." He replies. 

She shakes her in head in frustration, "Not like that!" She frowns, she breathes, "All right. I give up."

He laughs at her petulance. 

They talk about the opera, art, the miniscule knowledge she has on science magazines Hannibal susbcribes to; the current news on the stock market, the socialite news on who went to who's party, the transparency of the column page; then they went to intimate, nostalgic topics. By this time, Hannibal had taken out the bottle of wine he had been saving for both of them to share. 

Mischa looks down at her half glass in a daze. Then breathes a laugh.

Hannibal sits up straighter in his seat, alert by his sister's sudden reaction. 

"What is it?" He inquires. 

"I was just thinking of what you told me before going away for med school." She says in a sotto voce voice. 

Hannibal mirrors her smile. 

She sits up, "You told me that Father was not entirely happy of you leaving for Paris for med school. I asked you where you would be staying. You answered you'll be with Aunt Murasaki." She drinks. 

Hannibal watches her throat move as she swallowed the wine.

She continues, "You said you'll be in touch with me, writing letters, and you did." She laughs. "You sent me drawings. I kept every one of them."

"What did I draw?" Hannibal knew what his drawing were. He just wanted to hear the words come out Mischa's lips.

"Superheroes."

She looks into her wine glass, twirling it, "I remember calling you 'Hanni-nerd'. It took quite awhile for me to stop calling you that. You told me you adored people with special abilities. You wanted to talk to them, learn them, experience them."

"And I did."

"Yes, you did and do." She just stares at him with a daze smile. 

They settle in another companiable silence. 

"What's his power?"

"Clairvoyance. Mind reading, telekinesis, telepathy." He answers. "He's an empath."

She hums pensively, "He can think like someone?"

"With enough concrete evidence, he can think like anyone in the world." He tells her. 

"If so, Will Graham should be recieving a Nobel Prize on Peace." She downs the rest of her wine, "Being an empath, wouldn't that help  _you_ , brother, with healing patients?"

"It would probably help, but the question it follows is 'to what extent?' The healing the patient requires is based on what he or she thinks is best for their psychological weal. I am only an aid to help them heal themselves."

"You are an expensive friend, Doctor Lecter." Mischa tells him, laughing. 

 

Mischa slept in Hannibal's house, back in her old room, for the night. She still had spare clothes for if she made an escape if ever her manager-cum-PRO hunts her down then she has a Plan B. 

She wakes up earlier than she needs to be to get back to her apartment to change into better-suited clothes this is after she coax Hannibal into making her crepes. 

When she goes down, straight to the kitchen, she sees a plate covered by a silver cover, the expensive ones Hannibal uses when he does the theatrics of serving his food to a companion. On its surface, she sees a sticky note stuck to it. 

She plucks it dejectedly, reading it in melancholy. Openning the plate, she is at least thankful that Hannibal had supplied her with some form of atonement. 

She sighs as she takes a sit to eat breakfast alone, she does what Hannibal does when he introduces his dish; it's almost a ritual, Hannibal pronouncing an Oriental or European ingridient and its exotic sauce, "Bircher muesli with rhubarb and sweet dukkah." 

Almost a ritual, but Hannibal isn't present to complete the ritual. 

It seems... broken. 

 

Hannibal intended to tell Mischa of Will and his relationship. To recount to her the story of how they started, how they came to be, how they are, what they are. But nostalgia was very present in the room, it completely pushed the matter from Hannibal's head and made him enjoy the intimate time with his sister. 

With Mischa being a to-be-diva of the opera world and Hannibal's packed schedule, it is ultimately hard to find a common time for both Lecters to spend together. Hence, it is only fair that Hannibal should confess to his sister about with whom he spends the rest of time with.  

Maybe another time.

 

Chilton pours the remaining contents of his scotch bottle into the flask. He takes of his goggles and walks to his chair. 

Truth be told, he enjoys himself when the heroes come over for a visit. They keep his life interesting, they remind him that he's what the masses would dub as the 'villain'. 

Oh, and he pours alcohol into the synthetic placenta because it contributes into making the chimeras into disgusting, disformed, psychopathic creatures. He isn't overly fond of the creatures he makes, but he does defend his chimeras against those who call it ugly though.

"Frederick." 

He flinches. He flails wildly in his chair, turning to find where the source of that voice is. He jumps up and twirls in place. 

He narrows his eyes when he sees his uninvited guest... again. "What?" He spat. 

A smirk curls on that smug face. 

"I simply require your... talents." 

He scoffs, "What is it this time?" Where were his guards? How come not one of them rang him?

Steps rebounded in his cave-like office, bounding towards his chair to sit, "About a month from now Dr. Abel Gideon would be having a charity party, would you be coming?"

"I told you, I won't be your date." He held his tongue. 

He shouldn't have done that. He turns to his guest, searching for a reaction, a violent reaction that's bound to threaten him to death. He feels more terrified when his guest shows only a disapproving frown. 

"I do not need your presence beside me, Frederick." 

He takes a deep breath. It may be his last. 

"Abel needs you to go to him and aid him with his experiment."

"On Miriam Lass?"

"Yes, that is after I've gotten the most vital part of the experiment."

Chilton stares at his guest. "How?"

 

It's gone. Everything on the archer, Phantom, it's gone. Fucking everything.

She screams. 

She ignores the small crowd that started increasing by her office corridor. Curious as to why their junior head writer screamed bloody murder. Whatever, they want a show? They get a show. 

Freddie grabbed her computer screen, snapping its cords like a limb from its body, and threw it down the floor. 

"Damn you! Fucking damn you!"

Her office door slams close. She looks up and sees the door is closed, but with Phantom standing in front it. 

She huffs, "What now? Someone fucking hacked my account and raped it." She spat, stomping the chipped and battered computer screen. 

She sees the archer's face twitch, she growls back at her computer screen, kicking it. 

"I have a back up." The Phantom throws a thumbdrive towards Freddie's direction. "Make sure."

Freddie catches it easily. "Yeah, yeah." She says defiantly. "What do you want in return? Another article? Kudos? Virtual cake?"

She looks up, the Phantom has gone. She huffs. 

"Don't like cake, huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * From Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol. 
> 
> Ah-woooo...
> 
> Make your guesses! Who's that uninvited guest? Could it be Hannibal? Bedelia? The Phantom? Mischa? Bella? Or even Will himself? Or you? 
> 
> Lol, tune in!


	10. Athena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>    She is, above all, the Goddess of the City, the protectress of civilized life, of artesian activities, and of agriculture. She also invented the horse-bit, which, for the first time, tamed horses, allowing men to use them.  

Hannibal moans as Will has him pinned in his office swivel chair with both his knees on either side of Hannibal's hips. Psyche is straddling him, kissing and sucking his lips. Hannibal loves this part of Will, when he's patient enough to take a hold of Hannibal's reigns and pull him to any direction Will fancies. The therapist is more than happy to oblige. 

"Will... Will..." He manage to say between Will peppering kisses on his lip.  "Stop..."

Will chuckles and opens his eyes to look his therapist in the eye, "'--What I'm doing?'" He questions in a mocking tone. "Your body is telling me other wise."

Hannibal leans up and kisses Will on the forehead, "I--"

"--'Have an appointment', I know. I glanced at your ledger." Will says, fingers feeling Hannibal's hot body through his still buttoned shirt. 

His therapist graces him with a groan when Will rubs his knuckles on Hannibal's evident erection, a tent on his black pants. 

Will hums, "You know the story of my namesake?" He doesn't really let Hannibal answer as he plunged his tongue in when the doctor opened his mouth to answer. Tongue feeling every crevice of Hannibal's mouth, the back of his teeth, his strong tongue. 

Will pulls back, fingers circling Hannibal's pert nipples through his shirt. He continues, "Psyche was to marry a monster Aphrodite sent. When Psyche was to kill the monster while it slept, she saw that it was a beautiful man."

"Are you--"

"--'Saying you're the monster?'" Will continues. "No, I'm not done with the story. It seems," he resumes "Eros, Aphrodite's son, had fallen in love with Psyche and married Psyche for himself. She fell in love with him when she saw his face, but Eros fled from her as no one is to see his face." He sucks on Hannibal's lower lip. 

Hannibal leans away from him, "Will, I know your ability is what you believe is a curse, as Psyche with her beauty. But do remember, without your so-called 'curse', you wouldn't help save people, if not in the hundreds, in the thousands."

Will stares at him, chewing his own lip, then his eyes divert to the space behind Hannibal. Then back to him, "That wasn't what I had in mind when I told you of the story." He says. 

Hannibal reaches his hands up to Will's and caress the man's arms in comfort. "What is troubling you, my love?"

Will lets his mouth quirk when Hannibal called him 'love'. He never had ever felt the emotions given by being loved romantically. By the society as a posterchild of the FBI, or being coaxed by Jack, but neither of those two gave him such a satisfying emotion that makes him feel mushy in the inside. Not like Hannibal. 

They had been doing this, making love behind close doors, after five months since they first met. Will had just one day kissed him, and Will's reason was that "I love you" as simple as that. But simple words require such complex explanation. Will was intoxicated with Hannibal's memories, right in the time Hannibal hated himself with every fibre of his being that he wanted to kill himself, but Will was close enough to him and kissed him, "I love you" said Psyche. After days, probably a week of contemplating on said act, Hannibal had formulated the theory that Will was empathizing with Hannibal's hate, but Will got (separated) from that at the right time and sympathize, saying such comforting words, but leaving Hannibal with such an astonishing act. A kiss. The doctor told Will of his theory, and Will agreed that it could be true. 

"I'm Psyche, and no one wanted me." He pecks Hannibal on his forehead, "You're Eros, I hope you don't run away from me any time, just when I saw your face."

Hannibal looks into Will's eyes, his usually stormy gray eyes now pliant. "Will--"

The door clicks open, Will srambles down to the floor, falling on his butt.

Hannibal scoots his swivel chair to hide Will in the niche of his desk. 

"Hannibal, lunch?" Asks a woman's voice, along with a pair of heels clicking the wooden floor, heading towards Hannibal's desk, towards Will's hiding place. "I thought I would catch you before you head out."

Hannibal smiles, "What can I help you with?"

The woman stops a good two yards from the desk. "Will you be going to the brunch happening a month from now?"

Hannibal nods, "Yes, I'll be going. What makes you think I'm not?"

"You seem... preoccupied." The woman breathes, as if she just used the best word to describe a piece of art. 

Will freezes. Did she caught sight of Will while he tried to hide?

Hannibal smiles sweetly, "Preoccupied with what?"

"With your hero, Will Graham." She points out. "He might need you during your time at brunch."

Oh. She didn't see him. Or maybe just a glimpse. Save from any embarassing situations. 

"Come, I'm famished."

Hannibal huffs, standing up, taking his jacket from the back of his chair. "I never let anyone around me starve." He states, wearing his jacket. 

He leads her outside of the office, Will saw that the woman is a blonde. Must be Hannibal's sister. 

The door clicks close. 

Will lets out a heave of relief. 

\--

Hannibal stops, hands on Bedelia's shoulders drop. "I forgot something." 

Bedelia turns to him, "Shall I wait for you outside?"

"If that would be all right with you." 

She smiles, nodding. She bounds toward the exit. 

\--

Hannibal enters his office once again. He sees Will standing up cautiously. "When shall I see you again?"

Will turns to him with a coy smile, "Whenever you're available for a walk-in appointment. As long as," he glances to the door, "nobody walks in on us."

Hannibal smiles, "I'll text you."

The hero nods, he nods to the direction of the door, "She's pretty." 

"I believe so to."

"You can go join her. I'll just crack a window open and jump off."

Hannibal chuckles, heading back to the door, "Make sure you come back in one piece."

"I'll try." Will answers drily. 

The door clicks close for the final time and Will wanted to take one of Hannibal's mini sculptures and hurl it at the window. 

\--

"What did you forget?" Bedelia asks as Hannibal approaches her, "It's not you to forget things."

"Well, yes. But as you had said, dear Bedelia, I had been _preoccupied_." Hannibal tells her. 

But Bedelia gradually tuned him out when she caught sight of one of Hannibal's office windows gently pushed open. She uses all ounces of her focus aura to not gape at the scene unfolding behind Hannibal, who is still talking away. 

A mop of chocolate black curls atop a well chiseled face, and light tan skin. Bedelia knows very much who this is, Hannibal's celebrity patient, Will Graham. Why Will Graham is escaping through Hannibal's office window, Bedelia wants to know. But unless she would like to give away his location and show she was up on both him and Hannibal, she'd rather not. She likes keeping secrets.

"I shall call Mischa if she would like to join us." Hannibal announces, whipping out his phone. 

"Oh, yes, do that." Bedelia tells him, eyes still watching Will Graham try to drop on behind the bush. 

Hannibal presses his phone to his ear and waits in silence. 

"Oof!" Will grunts as he fell behind the bush. 

"Mischa!" Hannibal exclaims in an attempt to conceal the noise from Will.

Bedelia is exasperated with their act, but she keeps it to herself. 

"Will you be joining us for lunch?" Hannibal asks, voice softer than before. He pauses as the younger Lecter replies.  "That's a pity then." He turns to Bedelia with a informative look. 

She nods in reply in confirmation that she understood what the young woman  said. Bedelia sees Will carefully standing up from behind the bushes. 

Hannibal opens the passenger door for Bedelia, "Shall we go?"

She smiles a grateful 'yes', taking hold of the door before Hannibal does such a chivalrous act as closing the door after her. 

Hannibal catches on this and goes around the front of his car and enters the driver's seat. 

Will made the fatal mistake -- Bedelia thinks it's a fatal mistake, she would think it is a fatal mistake if she was in Will's position-- of glancing at their direction. Well, more of the direction of the car. And from the car, Bedelia had been clearly watching him. He freezes in place, she winks at him before sliding in the seat.

 

Will enters the house using the key under the mat. Jimmy had insisted they hide a key under the mat for instances such as one of them might have been swallowed by an acid monster and said monster evaporized his or her clothes and ran to the house to get a spare, but the monster eat the key, hence Jimmy's ingenius plan. One time that did really happen, only  Will's pants got stuck in the swing and the other three were courteouss enough  to turn around while he runs back to the house. 

They have a swing set behind the house. 

As soon as the door swung open, Will saw Brian sitting on the couch like a normal human being. Bev is cross-legged like a proper lady. And, Jimmy was his usual self. All three turned their heads to him in scary unison. 

"Uhm, hey?" He attempts. They might have been made into clones, while the real ones are in some cylindrical tank filled with cucumber water. 

A woman appears from the direction the three were looking at. She looks pretty. 

"You must be Will!" She says so enthusiastically, as if Will was the new friend this lady's kid made. "Your friends had told me so much about you." She takes his arm and gently leads him to the couch to join the others. "Sit! I brought muffins!"

Will sits down then touches Bev's forearm, gesturing at the courteous woman, "Who?"

"Our new PRO." She answers. 

"I am Phyllis Crawford, but friends call me Bella."

Will turns to Bev, agape, he asks in shocked whisper, "Jack's wife?!"

Bella smiles, "Yes, I'm Jack's wife. I know I may be overstepping boundaries doing this, unauthorized at that, but I'm close with some of Jack's people so I pulled some strings so I can see you guys."

Bella might be the nicest woman Will's ever met. (Bev is their Amazon, she chooses who she wants to be nice to.)

"I'm pro-heroes, or superhuman, or--" She says. "Anyway, I want you guys to know that my organization and I are here to advocate equality among superhumans and us average ones.  My organization had opened up an institution six months ago where people with abilities come and they can meet other people with abilities through recreational activities like weekly book clubs, tutoring centers, and the likes. We are very successful with it, and they all look up to you guys. But what _I_ thought was, how come we only protect these people, how about their role models? So," she gestures to them with open palms "here I am."

Jimmy opens his mouth, then closes it. 

Will picks up on his thought exactly, "Does Jack know about this?"

Bella smiles cryptically. 

Bev grins while she looking at the woman, answering Will's question for Bella. "No. Jack doesn't know a single thing about this." Then to Bella. "I'm liking you already."

"I want to know what you guys suffer from as heroes." She tells them, "I'll tell the others. They practically adore you."

Will shifts his eyes at his teammates, then to Bella, "Well, there's Freddie Lounds."

"Oh yes," Bella says immediately distressed by the notorious journalist, "she's an officious presence. She goes to our institution and 'suggests' improvements on our system." She sighs helplessly, "So she annoys you guys too?"

Brian nods, "Very much."

Bella's constant calling them as 'guys' [author is partial to sexism, but is against VAW] is making the four heroes feel like Bella had been visitng them for so long already. Maybe it's because of the organization she represents, the fact that an organization truly care about people like them, it somehow pushes the four into better role models. Then again, it shows that they are under more supervision. 

They might need their own Twitter accounts again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and New Year's Resolution Making!


	11. Morpheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's put the Ravenstag on centerstage...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORPHEUS was the leader of the Oneiroi, the gods or spirits (daimones) of dreams. He manifested himself in the dreams of kings and rulers in the likeness of men as a messenger of the gods.
> 
> http://www.theoi.com/Daimon/OneirosMorpheus.html

"What are you thinking about?" Hannibal asks ten minutes into their session. 

Georgia Madchen snaps awake from her daydream, she was mindlessly and dazely staring into the nothingness to Hannibal's right. She blinks at him, collecting her senses, then says, "Sorry. I was just..." she blinks at the air, "I just remembered my dream last night."

"Would you like to share?"

Georgia nods, albeit reluctantly, "Uhm, it went like this: I was in a swimming pool lounging on a floating bed. Then suddenly, the floating bed tipped over and I drowned. Which is very unsusual because I know how to swim. I took classes for it when I was a child and I was a part of my high school swim team." She pauses to glance at her therapist before resuming. "Then when I conked out, the point of view changed. I watched Mischa dive in and save my body and swam up shore."

"'Up shore'?" Hannibal quotes. 

She confirms, "The pool turned into a beach, I don't know why but I wasn't confused in my dream how that happened."

"All right."

"Oh," she exclaims, "then I gave her my arrow-- assuming it was mine since I suddenly had it with me." She says the last part quickly. "I gave her an arrow and, without exchanging a word, I pleaded her, and she stabbed me with the arrow. My blood looked..." she had tilted her head, "looked red."

"Why do you think it looked red?" He asks. 

"Like, unusually red. To other people it would look just red. But when I watched the blood flow, it looked... it had some special meaning."

"What does your blood mean?"

She stares at him, astonised, confused, lost. She answers, "I don't know."

"Have you told Mischa?"

"I don't-- haven't." She answers dejectedly. 

 

Blonde curls flow with the wind. Eyes narrowed as the silhouette scanned Baltimore. Her bow and arrow pressed together ready to strike. 

"How was it?"

She turns and faces the person she came to see. 

Mischa smiles up at her, "Come down here. I missed you." She says, beckoning her to come down the ledge of the building. 

Slowly, she leaped down the ledge, putting her bow over her chest like a backpack, her drawn arrow goes back to the quiver. She then breaks into a run to close the distance between her and Mischa Lecter, arms closing as the singer was near enough. 

"Oh Georgia..." Mischa cooes. "How I missed you."

Georgia rips of the face mask off her skin, dropping it on the concrete ground, then she kisses Mischa on both cheeks, the other blonde laughing, then embraces her once more. "You were gone for too long."

"I agree. Three weeks was horrid." 

Georgia places an arm around Mischa's waist and both left. 

 

A month with no villains to smash or imprison, nor any chimeras to smash or imprison, the team is bored. Not that they enjoy catching villains and chimeras-- no, wait, they do enjoy it. They don't enjoy the part where other lives or fates are destroyed by said villains. Because it is never good to have fun at the expense of someone else's misfortune. 

It's midnight. 

And Will Graham is loiterring around the house grounds, and that's never good. 

_Crack!_

He sighs, turning around on his heels and faces the bush behind him. "Hannibal, I know it's you."

The bush shakes and Hannibal Lecter goes through it, he presses a hand through his hair to remove any leaf or twig stuck on his hair. He then pats his pants clean from dirt. He faces his beloved with a smile, "I came as promise."

Will cracks in a small smile. "Yes you did."

"How are you?"

Will breaks into a confused frown, "We met this evening."

Hannibal walks closer to him, "Of course. But remember, distance makes the heart grow fonder." He closes his arms around Will. 

Will laughs lightly, "Never knew you're a sap."

"I'm not." Hannibal responds. 

Will smirks, "Then what is this thought I'm picking up from you? You do know we don't have a balcony here."

"I'll save that scene for another occassion then." Hannibal says, kissing Will sweetly on the lips. "Why don't we go to my house for a light midnight snack." He takes Will's hand in his, leading him to his car which is a bit far off. 

"Meat is not a light midnight snack, Hannibal." Will reminds him. 

"You know I'm not a vegetarian, Will."

 

Brian had been roaming the hall for five minutes. His pillow like a ragdoll, being dragged on the floor. 

He sleepily knocks on Will's door thrice before pleading, "Will? Will, I had a dream. I think it was a bad dream. Will, can I sleep in your room?" 

When he got no answer, he walks to the next room, which is Bev's. He knocks thrice, before the door opens. 

Bev raises a brow at him, "Waddup, Daph?"

He blinks blearily at her, "I had a bad dream."

"That's the password. Welcome to the brotherhood." She steps back and lets him in, closing the door. 

Jimmy looks up from his teepee of purple blankets by the foot of Bev's bed, "You too, huh?"

Brian nods slowly, putting the pillow on Bev's bed and laying his head on it, "Don't you know it."

Bev joins them, sitting Indian-squatted, completing their involuntary triangle. "Where's Will?"

Brian shrugs, eyes already closed. 

Bev turns to Jimmy, "Why don't you get him? You can go invisi-boo on ghosts, I bet they'll get scared."

Jimmy scowls at her, "That is insulting."

Bev points at her face, "Doth my face bovvered?"*

Jimmy dismisses her with a wave, "Don't quote Catherine Tate's Shakespeare on me." He says, standing up. 

Bev grins triumphantly, pulling out her laptop from the centerpiece of a pillow they installed into their blanket fort.  

The door closes as soon as it opened. 

Bev turns to Brian, but he snored. He falls asleep quite fast. 

She turns to the laptop, and opens the browser window into a recent article of Tattlecrime, not by Freddie Lounds, but it's equally unsettling.  

_'Unidentified Dark Moose Spotted around local suburb: Is this something to call the FBI- Hero Squad on?_

There is a grainy picture of the said moose with a timestamp on the righmost-lower part of the picture. 

It looked so dark, evil dark, and its horns seem so sharp and smooth, it moonlight outlines its antlers. 

She had suscribed to Tattlecrime to get what little information-- no matter their transparency-- she can. She had openned it on her phone this morning while she supervised Brian making pancakes. She couldn't open it right then, or else, the others might feel betrayed. Because, there have been an unspoken rule amongst them that Freddie Lounds is taboo. Like Voldemort, if one says He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's name, then there's bound to be Death Eaters around. 

The door opens and closes. 

Bev exits the browser window.  Then turns to her left when she felt body heat. "No Will?"

"None, not even a lock of curls." Jimmy says, shaking his head. 

Bev gave him a wierd look, "You take pieces of Will's hair?"

Jimmy pouts at her, "I'm on bedroom cleaning duty! I know  _you_ keep a can of cookies in the loose floor board."

Bev's eyes went dangerously narrow. "No one must know my secret food supply."

"Why not?" Jimmy counters. 

"If there's a zombie apocalypse." She easily points out. 

He gasps, "You're not gonna give us food?!"

"Nope!"

"You complete and utter bitch."

Bev flips him the index finger.

   
"When will I meet this Will Graham, Hannibal?" Mischa asks. 

Hannibal smiles, "When he is quite free. Why do you like to meet him?"

Mischa grins slyly, "Because I get the feeling he's _really_ special."

"Why do you say that?"

"There must be some reason why you've been his therapist for approximately two years and I haven't even catch a glimpse of him leaving your office." She says with candid nonchalance. 

"Well, he was free when you were in your three weeks of absence." Hannibal informs him. 

Her blue eyes went wide, "What? No monsters to catch? No villain to villify?" 

He takes a sip of chamomile. 

"Oh yeah, have you read the dark moose article from Tattlecrime?" Mischa asks, "I mean, not that I believe it, its means and goals are questionable, but have you read it?"

Hannibal looks at his sister. "No, I have not." He wanted to tell her not to even lay her eyes upon the monstrosity and extraneous of Freddie Lounds and Tattlecrime. 

"I have, well, Georgia sent me a link while I was in Rome." Mischa tells him, "The moose looks scary enough, but the in the article, it seems like a dangerous presence prowling the suburbs. One of the girls in the make up dep who lived nead where the picture was taken told us that it seems to be present where there is a collective amount of Fear or nightmares."

Hannibal's expression hardened. Will had not told him of any moose-related thing or chimeras they had been sent to. Is it that the FBI had turned a blind eye to this?

Suddenly, Mischa's phone rings. She looks up to her brother for an unspoken excuse.

He nods. 

She takes it and leaves Hannibal in the dining room. Not a minute later, Mischa marches right in and hands Hannibal her phone, a serious face on her face. She says, "You need to see this."

He takes the phone and sees that it is an article from Tattlecrime, and it was just posted mere minutes ago. He reads the headline,  _'Dark Moose Haunting the FBI's Hero Squad'_. 

Hannibal just stared at it, agape. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Catherine Tate Show, featuring David Tennant. OMG, don't get me start on Doctor Who, no seriously. 
> 
>  
> 
> I almost forgot you can advertise another fic on one fic! Silly me. 
> 
> Have you read #GreatCoffee? My one-shot Hannigram crack. I tagged it elegant crack because they're all practically rich kids? I dunno. I really like it. So please read! :3


	12. Hestia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Internet was cut off, so I could only do a weekly update, because I tend to get paranoid. 
> 
> I'm such an irresponsible person in general. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enters Elsa...

"Why haven't she shown herself?" The young man who is capable of levitation questions. "It's been a month."

The young woman who can control flora agrees. "She may be overbearing and bossy, but I can't help but anticipate when she would waltz in the institute."

Bella nods, but she doesn't entirely agree with her. When that Freddie Lounds comes in like the Queen of England, Bella is like a cat in front an alligator, ready to stand her ground, ready to defend her litter. 

Today, their Parthenon, their version of the student body goverment, welcoming committee for a new addition to their institution. 

She had been saved by her brother from being beaten to death by anti-heroes. Poor thing was cornered in an alley. Good thing her brother was there in time to save her. 

 

"Are you _sure_ , Mar-mar?" Mason Verger questiond the fifth time that hour as he helplessly watch his sister look for her much beloved Gucci leather boots. 

When she finds them, and pulls them up to her thighs, she walks to her brother and kisses his cheek, "It'll be good for me, Mason. Like that alcoholics support group you went to last year."

Mason nods, "You seriously sure?"

Margot smiles, "It'll be good for me. They'll help me."

Mason opens his arms, "Let me get a hug before I leave for Tokyo."

Margot enters her brother's embrace. "It'll be good for me." She assures, more for her brother rather than for herself. 

 

Margot Verger was in a mangy club in Queens, New York when the incident happened. She stumbled out of the backdoor of the club, phone in hand, while she messily dialled her driver to fetch her from her night activities. Previously, her elbow had swiped her shot of tequila off the table and before it felt the ground with a collective tinkling of crystal shards, she made a vain attempt of pulling it up before it broke. But as her hand stretched, the spilt tequila froze into ice, catching the shot glass like a gravity-defying sculpture her friends watched in uninterest -- they didn't care that she have powers -- and laughed and chided her that she better pay for it. A bartender approached them when he noticed that a consuderable amount of the crowd surrouding the group  were staring at Margot like she just grew another limb. 

"Can I help you girls?" He asked nicely brcause the club owner's daughtrr is right beside Margot, laughing at the suspended shotglass like a baby and the sound of ripping paper. 

Margot, buzzed and still in good spirits, picked her ice sculpture up and handed it to him. "I'll pay for it."

The bartender looked at it in exasperation. The other girls are still laughing hysterically at the sight of it. It looked like a trophy. 

"Congratulations." She muttered. 

Half an hour after the incident, Margot bid good-bye to her friends to head home. 

She walks outside the club, fumbling with her phone, thumb hovering on the speeddial button. She stumbles as the bouncer let in two guys and accidentally put his foot on the way, she quickly regains her steps on her 5 inch heels. 

"Mar-mar?" Came Mason's voice from the other line, "what's up?"

Margot winces. She had drunk-called her brother at least six times already, though he is patient enough and let it slip (he needed an excuse to bail on meetings, anyway). 

"I must have pressed the wrong number _again_." She smiles sheepishly when Mason laughed at the last word. "Be my designated driver again?" She asked so childishly, innocently when she had been drinking a moment ago. 

"Where are you?"

"Queens."

"I'll be there in 20."

"Love you."

"Ditto."

In twenty minutes, Margot was cornered by three to five men who taunted her, insulted her, beat her up. If Mason haven't sped up the last red light, who knows, he might have found his sister's corpse or worse. 

Margot extendedly detained in ICU for three months, not only her friends triedto see her for themselves but also the paparazzi. Mason quickly filed for a restraining order once he heard about it. And the reason for her extended stay was that her IV kept freezing up several times. 

 

"Good morning, Margot." Dr. Lecter greets as he opens the door to let her in. "Please come in."

Margot had gone to countless therapists and psychologist, Dr. Phil is just a phone call away. 

Margot had a man with super abilities for a therapist, once of twice, and he was no help at all. He spoke off 80 percent during Margot's appointments ranting about responsibilities, powers, and individual uniqueness. She asked him for a referal since "I don't need a pep talk, I can just watch Fashion Police and feel better." She felt justified when he was taken aback, offended. And she was finally refered to Dr. Hannibal Lecter. 

She made it straight that Dr. Lecter does his job. Respect doctor-patient confidentiality. No selling the paparrazi her trash. No useless pep talk. And finally no hooking her up with a 'friend'.  

The latter had happened thrice, and her restraining order against these three are still active. 

She nods back a greeting and enters, walking straight to the patient's chair. 

"How was your weekend, Margot?" He asks. 

"Quite fine, actually. I joined this organization that advocates equality among people with special abilities and those with not." Her positivity does not show on her façade. 

Hannibal sits across her. 

She waits until her therapist is comfy in his own seat. "Though, I wary on their very principle." She leaves a bit of silence for Dr. Lecter to ask a "Why so?" She continues, "If they advocate equality, then why build an institution that segregates people with special abilities from the rest of the society?"

"Well, yes. Equality is to make each and every individual cared for and treated with respect. Through 'segregating' people," he says "they know who they are standing up for. As you know, alot of laws had been established for human rights. But only a pinchful of bills for people with special abilities had been noted by the country. They are still to be approved."

Margot shrugs, "I see that, I just wanted to let it out and probably ask it to them."

Hannibal smiles, "Is this organization, by chance, the one where Phyllis Crawford is the spokesperson?"

"Yes."

"And, if I may ask, were you compelled to join when the FBI's hero squad became their mascot?"

Margot lets out a small sly smile, "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Quite the contrary," he says, replying her smile with his own. "Joining their organization may very well be the lid you've been hoping to fit that gap in your heart."

"Yes, since you have openned my eyes to the other substitute to love." She says it like she reminds him of their last session. "Actually, not to brag, I had looked up charity organizations and am deliberating on which ones to pick."

Dr. Lecter is pleasantly surprised. "More than one organization, I presume."

"Yes. But as I thought of it, why not invest on the very organization I joined in. At least, by that, I can see amd feel the charity I had given."

Hannibal smiles, "Killing two birds with one stone."

Margot laughs to herself, correcting him, "Killing them with a gold bar."

 

"You must be Margot Verger!" Bella exclaims as the chaupperrone opens the door for Margot. 

Margot climbs out. All in her leather skirt, leather Gucci boots, blood red blouse, and quirked smile. 

"Yes, yes I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by, yeah, you guessed it. I wanted Margot to be cool. She deserves to be stable in some part of her life. 
> 
> Tell me if you like this characterization of Margot Verger. If you agree or disagree. I love hearing from you!


	13. Mount Olympus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the house...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should have been a long post. But I haven't finished the rest of the initial chapter. 
> 
> And thank you for your comments! And kudos! And time for reading my story!
> 
> Please enjoy!

Bev is indian squated on the kitchen island when Jimmy comes in to get a glass of orange juice. She's haunched over her phone, brow furrowed as her thumb swiped the screen. Must be reading fanfiction.  

Brian has flu. Last night, he wandered in the halls and fell asleep in Jimmy's bed. Jimmy's hoping he didn't catch it so he's drinking OJ just in case. 

Will is making french toast. "G'morning." He greets as Jimmy appeared from his right. 

Jimmy grunts a reply, pulling out the box of orange juice. "Bri's sick."

"I gathered." 

"Did you gather his flu virus too?" 

Will flings him a bit of batter from the french toast. "Shut your cakehole." He says, but with a smile. 

Jimmy grins before turning invisible and go invisi-boo on Bev. He disappears and climbs up the island and places his hand on her head, making her flinch. He wants to laugh, but the sight of where her mobile browser is opened freezes him in place, in invisibility. "What are you doing?" He asks with a sotto voce voice that sounds terrified. 

There is no witty reply from Bev nor a Superman punch. 

She just sat there, still haunched, didn't even try covering her phone. 

Will pays them no mind. 

The pressure on her head disappears. "Will you please meet me in the hallway?" He silently climbs off and went up the stairs. 

Bev flashes Will a guilty look without him seeing it. Then follows Jimmy's presence to the hallway. 

As soon as both heroes left Will, the kitchen looks like the light at the end of the tunnel. The hallway suddenly becomes a dark and scary place. If both went deeper into the darkness, they might get dragged in by the hypothetical frightening tentacled monster in the end of the hall. 

And then Jimmy appears. "What were you doing reading Tattlecrime?" He asks in a harsh whisper. 

In that moment, Hercules isn't so strong anymore. She is Achilles and she has her heel maimed with an arrow. 

"For protection." She says. Her tone should be firm, but it was still a whisper. When Bev felt a hand on her head, she thought it would be Will telling her breakfast is ready, but it was Jimmy. And Jimmy is this wierd uncle Bev looks up to sometimes. And then he just caught her red-handed reading an article from Tattlecrime. Tattlecrime is a no-no, says unspoken rule number one. And she just broke it. "For our protection." She adds, but more for her own assurance. 

Jimmy then does something that made Bev feel like a dog bowing in frightened submission: he scowls at her. "Freddie Lounds is HIV, gonnoreah, and every other STDs out there!" He tells her in an angry soft voice, quiet enough neither Will nor Jimmy could hear. "A condom is no protection from a fiery sex disease as her. We do not need her lies to understand villains that we face. She will only get in your head like a dumb summer song and fuck you up. Do you understand?"

"Yessir." She mutters. 

He points out to the kitchen, "Now go and have breakfast. Don't tell your brother about this!"

Bev quietly returns to the kitchen. She doesn't dare give him a 'WTF, mom?' look. 

Jimmy goes back to his room.

Brian cracks one eye open, "The hell was that?" He croaks. "Bev in a sexual relationship with someone?"

"Worst." Jimmy unclenches his fists, then becomes surprised when he notices the lack of orange juice box in his hand.

"She's having sex with an enemy of ours?" Brian tries, sitting up, alarmed. 

"Worst." Jimmy says, he goes to his dresser and pulls a drawer open. 

"What's worst than that?" Brian asks, eyeing his teammate procure a fobwatch. "Is it something about Freddie Lounds?" 

"Yes, but I shouldn't have told you." He stands by the bed. 

Brian looks up at him, "Are you gonna tell Jack? Wait-- what do you mean you shouldn't have told me?" His eyes falls to the watch hanging from its chain on Jimmy's hand. Suddenly, he feels frightened. "Are you gonna hypnotise me? You know I'm not highly susceptible to suggestions."

"I know, but I've hypnotised you alot of times before. Let me just," he starts swinging the watch like a pendulum, Bri's eyes following. "erase the bit about Bev and my conversation."

 

Brian walks down the stairs blanket around him like a deformed igloo. "Guys, I'm sick." His voice is muffled by the blanket. 

Will raises a brow, "Jim, do you hear something?"

Jimmy grins, "No." He turns to Bev, "Bev, you?"

She shakes her head, "No, not a thing." She waves an arm at Jimmy, "But I do see an ugly monster like the one we killed last week."

Jimmy pops his head out and frowns at them, sniffing. "You guys are the worst."

Will shrugs, "Get back inside your igloo, eskimo boy."

Bev scoffs a laugh and high-fives with Will.

Brian rolls his eyes at them, "Peasants." Then goes back upstairs, "Imma go and heal by watching Game of Thrones."

Bev leans back, "Does his Majesty want any breakfast?"

"Deliver it up in my quarters, thanks."

Will telekenises a plate from the drying rack and settles it on the table. Bev puts generous amounts of french toasts and bacon in the plate. And then, Will takes out a bottle of tabasco from behind him, putting it beside the plate.  

Jimmy looks at him. 

The three of them grin. 

Bev gives him a bowl, Will squeezes out tabasco in it, Jimmy mixes in strawberry jam. 

Team is family. And this family will always be disfunctional. But they have a good time killing each other. 

 

"Hey, Bev," Will calls as he follows her up the stairs to the backdoor of the house. 

They were having another playday on the swingset, and no one's pants had been caught yet, miraculously. 

Bev turns her head to him, "What's up, Will?" She pushes the door open. 

Will does not reply until they get into the kitchen. He leans his elbows on the kitchen island. "Uhm... how do I not sound weird?" He asks himself. 

Bev snorts, pulling out a bottle of fizzy juice from the refrigerator, "You can start by going straight to the point." She suggests, closing the door, and then pushes the tab to open the can. 

"You sure? I--" 

Bev gives him a gesture of 'duh'. 

"Well then," he clears her throat, " I'm dating my therapist."

Bev blinks at him. 

The lack of a reaction indicates that Bev did not understand. 

He tries again, "I'm dating Dr. Lecter."

Her jaw gapes, "Oh shit, no. You serious?"

He stares back at her bleakly. 

"Huh," she says dumbly, "I guess truth really is stranger than fiction." She slides on a stool, resting her can on the island top. "Okay, continue, please."

"In truth, we _were_ dating."

Bev lets her chin drop to her chest rather than getting caught gapping twice at one topic. "This is getting juicy. Continue."

"To start off, during one of our sessions I looked into his eyes -- those soul searching kind of intense look -- and then I told him something along the lines of 'I love you?'" Bev nods. "And then I kissed him."

"Woah, hold on a minute." She says, raising a palm. "If I let you go on, will you give me any assurance that the story won't turn into a coming-to-age plotline?"

Will gives her an unamused look. 

"Okay."

"He kissed me back, and then we started an unspoken dating relationship." He ignores her snort. "We spoke about it after awhile, we agreed that we don't have to be labeled 'boyfriends'."

"Yes, because 'boyfriends' is immature," she air quotes, "and 'manfriends' is more suitable given your ages." She laughs despite herself. 

Will telekinises that she spills her drink on her lap. 

Bev gasps and quickly puts the can on solid surface, before glaring at Will. "I'm _sorry_." She sneers. "Sheesh Louis, Will. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

"And then he just left a voicemail in my inbox saying that what we did was a mistake and broke up with me."

Bev raises her hand once more, hand as strong as her namesake. "I'm gonna ask, Will. Did you cry about your break up with Dr. Fancy-Suited Man?"

Will doesn't need to reply. 

Bev immediately understood. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Emotionally, Will, are you hurted?"

"Yes."

She nods. "Denying emotions never do us good, first protocol of hero-ing. So we'd have to bench you."

Will wrings his fingers, "What if you guys need me?"

Bev beckons him to follow her back outside, "Come on, a cockroach can live without a head for a week, Psyche."

Will should feel nervous, but when Bev said that a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders. 


	14. Prometheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "None." _...yet._ They're twins, they have intuitive powers no one understands, so Mason knows the last part. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prometheus was the Titan god who gave men fire.

_"So tell me, how did yesterday go?"_ Mason asks as soon as he picked up. 

Margot had been smiling since she woke up this morning. "It felt like _home_." She says it so fondly, so lovingly. Remembering the event made her feel cinnamon, freshly baked cookies, wood, the cool scent of the forest. And that's saying something because the Vergers don't own any cabins. And the two are generally the epitome of rich spoiled children.  

 _"Hey, I better see you at home when I get back from Tokyo."_ He chides. 

She laughs, "I won't make promises."

Mason makes an disagreeing sound. He keeps quiet for a second then asks, _"Any trouble?"_

"None." _...yet._ They're twins, they have intuitive powers no one understands, so Mason knows the last part. 

 _"So what did you do for the whole day?"_  

"I helped cut up and organize coupons."

Mason snorts. 

She makes an offended sound, "I seriously did!" Then she remembers what caused Mason to react so. "Hey! That was nursery ago! Scizzors shouldn't be in nursery children's hands!"

 _"I know that, Mar-mar. But you helping with couponing seems like a deja vu of 'nursery ago'."_ Mason points out. _"It was supposedly an innocent play. Then you made two scizzors 'kiss'."_ Mason erupts into a guffaw on his own. _"Gosh, I was bursting my lungs off when Papa told us."_

Margot stares, bummed out, into nothingness, as if Mason would see her reaction. 

_"Sorry. Well, actually I'm not."_

"You only knew what 'scizzoring' meant when you searched for porn!" She retorts. "I mean, seriously, May-May? Show porn to your sister much?"

"That's the reason no one close to us trusts you with a scizzor."

Margot blows a small lock of hair from her cheek. "You keep your piggy-hole shut."

"Shutting."

 

The next time Margot went back to the the meta sapiens sapiens institution, she had an armful of magazines with her and a few more paper bags in her car. 

Phyllis Crawford was laughing as she helped Margot unload. 

As they got the rest of the magazines in the common room, Phyllis says, "I guess we can survive for two winters."

Kade Prurnell, a woman with the ability to absorb energy, approaches Margot with two pink scizzors. "Ready to snip these things for the colony?"

Margot smiles, "Totally."

 

Thirty minutes into couponing, Margot stops and stares at Kade. "If I may ask," the woman looks up at her, "and you don't have to answer, what happens after you're, like, filled with energy?"

Kade smiles smally, "I just let it out."

"Like yoga?"

"Similarly like yoga. But even before I'm filled with energy," Kade closes her eyes, scizzors on the table, "I could just breath in, out... then." Her chest retracts and icy blue steam are emitted from around Kade like those paintings of saints with halos. 

Margot raises her brows, surprised, "You can't release the energy you get like how..." she winces. "Er, like if you were thrown a fireball, you can't imitate the fireball?"

Kade shakes her head, "The goverment wanted me. I had a secretarial desk job in the FBI, but then I accidentaly showed my powers in front Jack Crawford." Both Kade and Margot turn to watch Phyllis. Kade turns back to the young woman, "Phyllis is a good woman, but she knows nothing significant to blow the feds off the water." She closes the magazine in her hands. "Phyllis has more power than she knows or acknowledges. Her being the spokesperson of us meta sapiens sapiens is a force to be reckoned with." 

Margot gives her a baffled look. 

"Who do you think would win: a woman with a compassion for discriminated race with superpowers or an organization that are trying to restrain said discriminated race by making them into a reality show?"

Margot shifts his eyes, "Are you implying were joining this institution to start a civil war?"

Kade laughs. "No, I was talking about Phyllis. But on a serious matter," her eyes go dangerously blue, "The government found out about my powers, they took me in silently, experimented with me. I was able to absorb a fireball and release the fireball. But they tampered with my DNA." She pauses, gives a quick glance at Phyllis, "They succeeded. I lost the part where I can release the energy.

"I escaped. Phyllis found me. I couldn't tell her that her husband was there when they extracted my powers."

Margot listens to her. Eyes wide in shock. Breath caught in her throat. She listens as Kade reaccounts to her what happened. 

_'...I couldn't tell her that her husband was there...'_

Who is Phyllis Crawford's husband?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My initial timeline for the plotline is being muddied with great impromptu ideas!!! Ahhh! The plot bunnies are loose!
> 
> But that's a good problem.   
> The bad problem is, I have to edit everything after the stories all laid down. But everything haven't been laid out yet, and that must be confusing for you lecteurs.

**Author's Note:**

> Please Read & Review!!
> 
> I would love to get constructive criticism and your thoughts.


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